


Skeleton Key

by roromir



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enthusiastic Consent, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Keith (Voltron), References to Depression, Service Top, Sharing a Bed, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Therapy, Top Keith (Voltron), everyone needs so much therapy, non-evil lotor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 05:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roromir/pseuds/roromir
Summary: Shiro fiddles with the hem of his shirt, considering."It may not have actually been me, hurting him, but it was my body, my sword, that burned that scar into his cheek," Shiro says in a voice choked with emotion.He swallows roughly."Every time I look at that scar on the face of someone so important to me, I think about how the Galra emptied me out, just.. used me over and over for whatever their whim was that day.“In the past, on earth, keys to lock and unlock doors were a physical item. Some keys were filed down, cut until they could be used to open many different locks."That's what they did to me. They cut me down until I could be used as they wished."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the 2018 Sheith Big Bang! 
> 
> All my love and thanks to my artist, Andy (mondaijo.tumblr.com), and my patient and awesome betas, Alex, Aria, Rue and Nova! Thank you to everyone in the SBB discord who held my hand through this process. I didn't come here to make friends, but I did anyway and I love all of you. 
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE: This story is only completely canon-compliant through Season 5, and as such, the Castleship is still with us. I've cherry-picked from Seasons 6 and 7 as applicable, but this story was thought of and plotted before they dropped. 
> 
> This story came about because of my own adventures in mental illness and watching "Voltron: Legendary Defender" as someone who lives with depression and anxiety. I thought to myself, "These kids are gonna need so much therapy." So I imagined a means for them to begin healing from everything they've seen and done. 
> 
> As such, this story deals with themes of depression, anxiety, PTSD, and anxiety attacks. I will warn at the beginning of every chapter for anything that might be triggering. Be gentle with yourself. 
> 
> Skeleton Key Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/124632312/playlist/0nbwCd1oUsOgHH3CoKs80P?si=kYj_mWzrSAO_EN9E_OrpbQ

He lingers.

 

 

He doesn’t choose to. His body, pale and translucent, floats in a star-dappled landscape reminiscent of the pocket dimension where the lions transform into Voltron.

 

 

It is beautiful, but bitterly so, the soft view his prison with no end in sight. It has been his home ever since the battle between Voltron and Emperor Zarkon.

 

 

Shiro can see for what seems like miles, but he is ensnared by whatever forces have brought him there. He seems to be immaterial and can neither touch the ground nor anything else. Including his own body. Something tethers him to this place, however; he cannot travel, flee, sleep – he is powerless.

 

 

Baffling flashes of clarity break up the interminable torment: Keith’s voice crying, “Please, no!” and later, softer, “This one’s for you, Shiro.”

 

 

Once, he hears the voices of Allura and the Paladins calling his name. He tries to tell them, but they flicker out before he can be understood.

 

 

Shiro clings to these like treasures as he twists futilely in the twilight-hued nightmare. He holds them as proof that he has not been forgotten.

 

 

Other moments make no sense to Shiro. As if he were dreaming, the visions take him away from his imprisonment entirely. Back in this ‘reality,’ he feels like a puppet, as if someone is pulling his strings. He knows it’s Haggar because he’s felt the chill of her magic touching him before. He watches, aggrieved, as his harshness helps to drive Keith from Voltron and into risk with the Blade of Marmora.

 

 

He shouts into the ether as his doppelganger sides with Lotor, giving him use of the black lion and even giving him the black bayard. Under Haggar’s control, Shiro is erratic enough to catch Hunk’s attention, but so much is going on the paladins don’t investigate further.

 

 

It sickens him each time he is forced to live through another version of reality where he is the witch’s plaything.

 

 

Lotor roaming freely through the Castle of Lions, Sam Holt dangled as bait by Zarkon… Lance smiling sadly at him in the sunshine outside of the castle. He sees Keith staring at him, expression utterly heartbroken; an angry red mark stands out on his cheek. The latest vision he has is just a flash of the bluegreen interior of a cryo pod. None of it clarifies why the witch has trapped him here.

 

 

Shiro does what he can to pass the time in the cold expanse. For a while, he screams for help. He can scream for a long time, because he feels no physical pain, but the distortion means even if someone hears him, he’s not sure they’ll comprehend.

 

 

No answer comes.

 

 

 

Sometimes he counts until he loses track. Sometimes he tries to pray. He was never very religious, not on Earth, but he nonetheless prays his planet has gone untouched by the Galra. He prays his friends are alive and that none of them are harmed by the witch’s actions through his hand.

 

 

At times, he tries to snap himself out of the space as if it were just a bad dream. It doesn’t work, of course. Each effort that fails kills another piece of him.

 

 

He despairs the hell will end until the moment he hears Keith’s voice.

 

 

“Shiro, Shiro! I’m so sorry. We’re coming for you.” His voice is garbled, distant, like a conversation held through tin cans on a string, but Shiro has no doubt the voice is Keith’s.

 

 

“Keith!” Shiro rasps, his vocal chords rough from lack of use. “Keith, where are you? Are you all right?”

 

 

Shiro whips his head around, searching in every direction, looking for anything aside from the purple-black landscape he’s memorized ten times over.

 

 

Nothing appears. His eyes burn with tears the astral plane denies him.

 

 

“Keith, please!” Shiro begs. “Don’t — don’t leave me here. Please don’t go again.”

 

 

“I’m sorry, Shiro, I’m sorry… Don’t give up…”

 

 

Shiro chokes on his own breath as the words fade away. It feels like a killing blow.

 

 

What did he do to deserve this torment? Why does the damned witch choose him of all the beings in the universe to sink her claws into again and again?

 

 

It’s hard to believe in the possibility of relief, of escape. He’s already suffered through an eternity of wishing he could have at least said goodbye to his mother, his father, Keith… he hopes the whispers of Keith’s voice aren’t just a hallucination.

 

 

While it would be a type of kindness for his brain to invent an existence where rescue is coming, Shiro knows his imagination can do better than faint whispers. If he were to daydream about Keith, more pleasant scenarios come to mind.

 

 

But of course, if Keith’s voice is a delirium, why wouldn’t it be him Shiro’s mind would choose to represent hope? There is no one Shiro believes in more.

 

 

There’s plenty Shiro has lost faith in: his usefulness in the universe, mercy, the very stars he stares at night after interminable night.

 

 

He fears as much as he hopes to snatch another word of encouragement from the ether.

.

 

He’s not ready when the next onslaught comes. He jumps in terror as guttural shouts fill his head. The witch, Haggar, shrieks in fury. Another voice joins hers in his mind – is it Allura? Fear and frustration war within him as he struggles to understand.

 

 

Their screams mingle; Haggar’s cuts off suddenly, and Allura’s voice rasps, “It is done.”

 

 

Shiro’s eyes dart around, but he remains alone.

 

 

“Allura?”

 

 

Nothing, again. Shiro hangs his head and prays to anyone who will listen for the princess to prevail.

 

 

The landscape begins to fade to black. Shiro can see nothing, nor can he shake himself free. It feels like he’s falling, and he tries to brace himself for the inevitable impact.

It is torture. As soon as he thinks this, his world tilts on its axis again.

 

 

“Shiro… Shiro, wake up. Please, come on… this has to work, damn it. You’ve got to wake up!”

 

 

Shiro smiles as the words reach him.

 

 

“You found me,” he says to the darkness.

 

 

Keith’s laugh, thick with tears, floats choppily into Shiro’s ears.

 

 

It seems clearer than any of the voices had been before. Shiro clings to this, a thrill of hope surging through him.

 

 

“That’s it,” Keith says, his voice growing clearer. That terrible feeling of helplessness flickers like a weak candle and he is overwhelmed with the sensation of being solid again, of being back in his body. His own body, his flesh hand, which is enveloped in two smaller, warmer hands.

 

 

“Keith!” Shiro gasps. He coughs, his throat as dry as the desert where they found the blue lion.

 

 

It’s bright everywhere and Shiro can’t see a damn thing. He blinks rapidly, his eyelashes sticking together with uncontrolled tears. “Please tell me this is real.”

 

 

He tries to sit up, but he feels pinned to the table. His lungs struggle to get enough air and he hacks again. His Galra arm refuses to cooperate and his eyes widen as he realizes it’s gone, sliced off above the elbow.

 

 

As his eyes and ears adjust to being back in the world—the real, physical world again, and not the astral realm—he realizes he’s laying on a medical cot in the Castleship with Keith perched on the ledge.

 

 

Coran, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and confusingly, Matt Holt bearing a scar on his cheek, hover around the cot with expressions ranging from apprehension to hope to open sobbing.

Shiro’s head spins.

 

“Tell me this is real,” Shiro begs them. 

 

 

His eyes flicker from Keith’s strong hands wrapped around his left to Keith’s face, his indigo eyes bright as he smiles, small and private, the one he reserves only for Shiro.

“This is real, Takashi,” he utters. And Shiro believes.

 

 

He’s being pulled up tenderly into Keith’s arms. It’s the best feeling he can remember, but it’s an astounding amount of sensations after being alone for so long. Shiro struggles to take in air as Keith crushes him to his chest. His hand slowly raises to Keith’s shoulders, and the sob that rips from his throat shocks him.

 

 

Keith’s hand is in Shiro’s hair, which has grown longer than Shiro likes, and he revels in the touch as his tears create a damp spot on Keith’s black shirt.

 

 

“Thank you,” Shiro says thickly into Keith’s neck. “Y’know, for saving me again.” He laughs, his face dripping with tears and who knows what else.

 

 

“I told you - as many times as it takes,” Keith says, drawing back and wiping his eyes hastily. Shiro notices he has a pinkish scar starting under his right eye and trailing to his chin. Shiro reaches up, fingers trembling, and traces the mark.

 

 

“This is new.”

 

 

Keith looks from Shiro’s hand to his face, his eyes unbearably soft.

 

 

“Yeah, it’s a long story. Wanna get cleaned up? We’ve got a lot to tell you.”

 

 

Shiro breathes the canned spaceship air, smelling a chemical stink on himself that reminds him of the healing pods.

“Okay.”

 

 

He swings his legs off the side of the cot and tries to stand, but they fold under him like a cheap card table.

 

 

The humans and Altean jump to help him, but before they can reach Shiro, Keith is there, strong and solid, an arm wrapping around his shoulders and boosting him up.

The others duck out of the infirmary as Keith glares at them. Clearly, he has an opinion about how the next few hours should proceed.

 

 

Shiro eyes his own legs in consternation. If his Galra arm is gone, he’s going to need at least some part of his body to work.

 

 

“So, how long was I … wherever?”

 

 

Keith dithers as he leads him from the infirmary. The floor feels strange, almost painful, against Shiro’s bare feet.

 

 

He wonders again how long he’s been under.

 

 

“That’s a hard question to answer. You were in stasis for about six months.”

 

 

Shiro’s eyes snap to Keith’s face.

 

 

“Is that all?” He swallows, trying not to recall the nightmare realm. “It… um. It felt like a lot longer where I was.”

 

 

Keith stops in front of the door to Shiro’s room, switching arms to place his palm on the keypad.

 

 

The door  _ whooshes  _ open, and Shiro looks around his room to realize Keith has been sleeping here. It looks more lived-in than Shiro remembers. Shiro doesn’t mind, but he does wonder why Keith would choose to do such a thing. 

 

 

What has been going on while Shiro was stuck in his hell?

 

 

He sighs as he settles into a chair, uneasy as he realizes he’s already worn out from the short trip down the hall.

 

 

“Keith?”

 

 

The other man pauses in his bustling about the room, where he seems to be gathering items to help Shiro bathe – soaps, towels and clean clothes.

 

 

He leans against his desk, inches from where Shiro sits, crossing his arms. He glares at the floor before he speaks again.

 

 

“You weren’t yourself for longer than six months,” he says quietly. “None of us are entirely sure when it began. We’re going to have to compare stories, because we don’t know what you know and what you remember.

 

 

“But right now, can I help you get the pod stink off of you and get you some food before everybody else demands their hugs? I had to threaten them, a lot, to let me do this.”

 

 

He places his right hand on Shiro’s shoulder, the soft weight reassuring. Shiro resists the sudden urge to clutch at Keith’s hand and rub his face against the warm skin. He settles for patting Keith’s hand.

 

 

“Okay. One thing at a time.”

 

 

Keith has that little smile on his face again.

 

 

Shiro feels his throat tighten. Despite his best efforts, he thought he’d never see Keith’s face again. Now that his eyes have adjusted, he notices Keith has changed. He looks a little different than Shiro remembers. He seems larger, perhaps, older; further distinguishing him is the mark, and his hair is longer and pulled back, which makes him look more grown – Shiro is abruptly, absurdly thankful he’s somehow gotten another opportunity at life. Another opportunity to serve the universe alongside Keith.

 

 

Keith clears his throat, his eyes flitting over Shiro in his grimy cryopod suit.

 

 

“Let’s get you out of that thing and showered up. I’ll help you into the bathroom and then I can duck out and grab you something to eat –"

 

 

He pauses, reading Shiro’s look of poorly concealed panic.

 

 

“Would you stay with me?” Shiro looks at his bare feet on the floor, ashamed. “I’m sorry. I just – I don’t want to be alone already.”

 

 

Shiro was by himself for so long, a time he couldn’t even quantify. His heart pounds as he imagines having to try to sleep in an empty bed smelling of Keith.

 

 

Keith’s dark brow furrows, his mouth downturned.

 

 

“Please don’t apologize, Shiro. None of this is your fault.”

 

 

He offers a hand to Shiro and hefts him to his feet.

 

 

“I’ll stay with you as long as you need,” he asserts as he guides Shiro into the bathroom.

 

 

Shiro can’t stop tears from falling, but he tries to ignore them as Keith undoes the clasps and eases the suit over his shoulders. He wipes his face with a sleeve and jumps as Keith’s calloused hands brush his sides.

 

 

Shiro feels a blush spread over his nose and cheeks as his body reacts to being touched again after so long. He tries to control his breathing as the sensations ripple over him, chills raising the hairs on his remaining arm. His nipples harden; the feeling of his sensitive skin pebbling and chills rolling over him are overwhelming.

 

 

Shiro studies his full head of silvery white hair in the mirror as the two of them work together to slip the grayish suit over his hips and legs. Something about the magic Allura used to bring him back to his body made his hair react that way. He finds he can’t be bothered by it at the moment, more important feelings rising to the forefront of his mind.

 

 

“Let me get the water running,” Keith says as he chucks the suit into the corner of the bathroom. He leans into the shower stall and fiddles with the faucets while Shiro eyes his own legs. They don’t look any less toned than he remembers, but he feels the muscles juddering with his every movement.

 

 

“I really need to get to the training deck,” Shiro muses. “Wish I could have done squats in the astral realm.”

 

 

Keith’s head slams into the shower door.

 

 

“Is that where you were?” he grits out, rubbing his reddened temple. “We didn’t know.”

 

 

Shiro uses the side of the shower to heft himself to his feet as Keith hovers.

 

 

“I thought it was the place where the lions go to form Voltron, but I’m not sure. I couldn’t really move.”

 

 

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, Shiro. I’m so, so sorry we took so long to get you out.”

 

 

Keith’s lip quivers.

 

 

“Hey, hey,” Shiro soothes. “What did you just tell me? It’s not your fault.”

 

 

He reaches out to grasp Keith’s shoulder, a motion he means to be calming.

 

 

Shiro flushes a little as his hand makes contact with the unbearably soft fibers of Keith's shirt and his thumb brushes the skin of Keith's neck. The touch makes his skin tingle in response, as if his senses have been magnified, like he’s feeling them for the first time.

 

 

Keith hums, equivocal, but he helps Shiro climb over the small shower ledge without arguing. Keith stays outside the shower, hovering somewhat anxiously.

 

 

Shiro lets out a completely involuntary moan at the feeling of the hot water sluicing over his skin. He immediately dunks his head under the hot stream and laughs, perhaps a little hysterically, at the extreme joy he feels from the sensation he'd taken for granted for so many years.

 

 

"Everything feels so awesome," he says and laughs at himself again.

 

 

Keith chuckles as Shiro gargles, spits and scrubs his face under the spray.

 

 

Shiro stops laughing when his weakness — and the loss of his limb — make itself evident.

 

 

His arm trembles as he tries to put the soap in his hair. He growls, the frustrated sound tearing from his throat.

 

 

"Everything okay in there?"

 

 

"I mean," Shiro sighs. "I've got a long recovery ahead of me, I think... I can barely wash myself."

 

 

He hears rustling from outside the shower stall. The door slides open and Keith calls, "Don't freak out."

 

 

Shiro looks over his shoulder and freezes when he realizes a naked Keith is climbing into the shower with him.

 

 

"Um," he says, his cheeks flaming. "Hi."

 

 

Keith sighs as he places a cool hand on Shiro's back, leaning past him to grab the soap.

 

 

"I said 'don't freak out.' I'm not going to molest you."

 

 

Shiro chokes on a laugh. He feels awkward but electric in the tiny cubicle. Keith is playing it cool, but Shiro is buzzing out of his skin being so close to a naked Keith.

 

 

"I didn't say I thought you would."

 

 

"I'm going to wash your hair now, okay, Takashi?" Keith says softly.

 

 

He waits for Shiro to nod before sinking his hands into Shiro’s hair, massaging firmly but gently.

 

 

Shiro breathes through his nose, urging his body not to react in an embarrassing way to the attention.

 

 

Though he couldn't have imagined the circumstances that led them there, he has to admit to himself the 'shower with Keith' scenario has been a daydream a time or twelve, one he worked to repress when he was imprisoned by the Galra. It seemed cruel to fantasize about something that could never happen, since Shiro never expected to make it out alive. 

 

 

Of course, he always had two arms in those daydreams. 

 

 

Keith’s fingers card through his hair and goosebumps race over his body despite the hot water.

 

 

Whoops.

 

 

He keeps his back to Keith, hoping the shorter man won't see the growing hard-on he's sporting.

 

 

"Close your eyes?" Keith breathes. "I'm gonna rinse your hair."

 

 

Shiro complies, letting his eyes flutter shut. Gentle pressure on the back of his head urges him to duck under the spray, and Keith's fingers smooth the soap from his scalp, scratching lightly.

 

 

Tingles continue to dance over him from the pleasure of being touched in such a tender way. Shiro tries not to shiver.

 

 

"All right." Keith lets his hands fall and Shiro leans back out of the shower stream, rubbing the water from his eyes. "Do you want me to wash your back?"

 

 

"If you — if that's all right with you," Shiro says, diffident.

 

 

Keith ignores a washcloth draped over the ledge and pumps more soap straight into his hands. They start at Shiro's neck, massaging the liquid over his shoulders, into his armpits, making him laugh, and over his back, stopping at the top of his ass. They slip from Shiro's skin before he can decide whether he wants Keith to keep going.

 

 

"Do you want to turn around so you can rinse?"

 

 

Shiro's face and ears burn.

 

 

"Ah, I don't think I should, unless you want to step out."

 

 

Keith hums.

 

 

"I don't want you to brain yourself on the wall if your legs give out. If you're embarrassed, I can close my eyes."

 

 

Shiro snorts. "That works."

 

 

Keith makes a loud show of slapping his wet hands over his eyes. "You're safe now," he teases, smiling behind the hands cupped over his face.

 

 

Shiro turns, moving his body to aim the water at his shoulders.

 

 

He tries to afford Keith the same courtesy he was given, but his eyes flicker down Keith's body despite his best efforts.

 

 

He's changed since Shiro has been trapped. He has more scars, but the most noticeable change is how he's broadened.

 

 

Dark hair dusts his firm chest, nipples and abdomen. Keith has always been solid, but the muscles of his chest, thick thighs and sleek arms are sharp and defined, and his abdominal muscles lead to a thatch of dark hair framed by a deep vee. His dick, Shiro ashamedly takes note, is uncut and not completely soft.

 

 

He gulps and reaches for the soap, squirting it into his hand despite his shaking.

 

 

He turns around and scrubs his front, avoiding his cock. He would probably come from a gentle breeze at this point.

 

 

He rinses and clears his throat before saying, "Okay, Keith, I'm done."

 

 

He peers over his shoulder, keeping his eyes staunchly above Keith's waist.

 

 

Keith has lowered his hands. His wet hair is slicked back, leaving his face bare. His eyes open, his dark eyelashes clinging to one another wetly, and he gives Shiro another soft smile before clambering out of the stall and grabbing towels for both of them.

 

 

Shiro turns off the water, pleasantly surprised that he remembers how the apparatus works. All of his brain isn't a sieve, at least.

 

 

Keith sticks a hand through the door, shaking a fluffy towel at Shiro. "Dry off a little and I'll help you out."

 

 

Shiro grabs the towel, scrubbing it over his head, shoulders and stomach, hissing a little as the warm fibers graze his sensitive cock.

 

 

He whisks it away and rubs down his legs, quickly realizing he won’t be able to wrap the towel completely around himself without some serious finagling, and finally just clutches the towel in front of his abdomen in a way he hopes obscures his body’s excitement.

 

 

He teeters to the doorway, feeling as unsure as a newborn giraffe, and Keith is there to help him over the low divider. Keith’s inky hair is shoved off his forehead, only serving to highlight his delicate features and sharp jaw.

 

 

Shiro smiles through a blush. "Thanks again."

 

 

"Don't worry about it," Keith replies easily. "I've got some clothes in here for you."

 

 

Shiro sits on the bed, tugging on briefs and pants underneath the towel, still chagrined by his body's enthusiastic response to Keith’s innocent touches. He tilts his hips as he yanks the fabric up one-handed.

 

 

As he dresses, however, his mind returns all too quickly to the more pressing issue of learning what had happened to him and his friends in his months of isolation.

 

 

He pulls a shirt over his head and glances up at Keith, who stands near the doorway.

 

 

Keith's face is inscrutable as he leans against the wall. He's gotten dressed while Shiro was busy fumbling with his own clothes.

 

 

He snaps out of whatever thoughts consumed him, aiming a soft look at Shiro where he sits on the bed.

 

 

"You ready to eat something? We've been waiting for you to wake up from cryo for a few days; Hunk probably has a huge feast set out already."

 

 

Shiro tries to smile in response, but the expression sits crooked on his face as he processes the new information.

 

 

"So I was in a cryo pod. I — I had a kind of vision about being in one, while I was in the astral realm."

 

 

Does that mean the rest of what he saw was real as well? Shiro's vision swims and he feels slightly faint.

 

 

He jerks in surprise as Keith's arm wraps around his shoulders again and eases him onto his feet.

 

 

"Let's get some food."

 

 

Keith is right — Hunk's culinary prowess is on full display in the mess hall of the Castle of Lions. No green goo will pass Shiro's lips that evening; there are roasted meat and vegetables, and even some bite-size items that look like pastries with fruit jam on them.

 

 

Shiro's stomach snarls at the sight, and Keith eyes him, laughing as the sound reaches his ears.

 

 

"Hunk, we've got a hungry patient out here!"

 

 

"Shiro!" Hunk ducks his head out of the galley, eyes wide, and something clatters loudly.

 

 

The next thing Shiro knows, he's being enveloped in Hunk's arms, the strong paladin's embrace squeezing him alarmingly tight.

 

 

He fights the impulse to struggle against the hug. He breathes in and out, grounding himself by patting Hunk on his sturdy shoulder.

 

 

"Missed you, buddy," Hunk chokes out.

 

 

"I missed you, too."

 

 

Hunk reluctantly lets go of Shiro and all but shoves him into a chair, shoveling food onto a plate and talking a mile a minute about the origins of the food and how he'd prepared it.

 

 

Shiro listens as best he can while eating somewhat faster than is polite. The other paladins drift in as he eats ravenously, wondering if isolation can turn someone into a hedonist.

 

 

Hugs are distributed generously by each person who enters the dining room, even Coran, shocking Shiro as the Altean holds on to him tightly.

 

 

As Shiro clears his plate, he looks up expectantly.

 

 

"I have a lot of questions, as I'm sure you all do, too." He pauses, deliberating where to begin. "Where's Allura?"

 

 

A look of apprehension passes between the paladins and Coran. Shiro's stomach sinks through the floor. "No..." he starts to say. She couldn't be...

 

 

"She's not dead," Coran reassures him. "She is in a healing pod, however."

 

 

"What happened?"

 

 

_ ‘It is done.’ _

 

 

Shiro remembers her voic e, faraway and faded, shortly before his soul rejoined his body.

 

 

“What happened?” Shiro croaks.

 

 

"That's a complicated question to answer, my boy," Coran replies sadly. "The truth is, we don't entirely know. But I am hoping we can clear some things up right now."

.

 

 

Keith feels like a bowstring drawn too tight as he watches Coran explain to Shiro that the mind-meld headsets can be used to share information in a quicker and more comprehensive manner than simply talking. It's emotionally and physically taxing, so it isn't used often, Coran explains. He'll be left out of the complete mental conversation, only able to see the images projected onto the apparatus, so he asks the paladins to fill him in after the fact.

 

 

Keith has been by Shiro's side since before he woke up from the cryogenic sleep. Not even half a day has passed, but already, Keith knows Shiro is far more fragile than the first time he'd returned from the clutches of the Galra. Shiro looks exhausted, the silvery white shade of his hair adding to his appearance of weariness.

 

 

Last time Shiro came back, he'd told Shiro the others needed him to be strong. But now, he believes they are going to have to be strong for him. If he'll let them.

 

 

In a few moments, Shiro will find out just how complicit his friends have been in his imprisonment this time around. Keith's stomach roils with dread. He yanks the mind-meld set onto his head and wraps his arms around himself.

 

 

He can see Shiro's hand shaking as he places the sleek equipment on his own head.

 

 

Keith looks around their circle on the ground of the lounge area, no one wanting to be the first to  start, before Pidge sighs.

 

 

"Shiro, what is the last thing you remember?" Pidge prompts.

 

 

His eyes close and they see his memories through the technology. Shiro recalls the battle with Zarkon, when Voltron and Zarkon's suit passed through one another. Five people wince as they relive the blinding pain the collision caused.

 

The next memory they see is him awakening in the dimly lit hellscape, tied by invisible bonds, screaming until he gives up.

 

 

Ice fills Keith's stomach and he feels the collective agony of the other paladins as Shiro recalls his interminable torture.

 

 

They bombard each other with their memories of what follows. Keith remembers searching endlessly for his friend amidst the rubble and debris.

 

 

> "No! I'm gonna find him! Shiro is the one person who never gave up on me, I won't give up on him."

 

 

> They all recall the struggle of deciding to find another Black Paladin. All of the paladins, Coran and Allura standing behind Keith as he gazes in sorrow at the black lion where it lies on the ground like a forgotten toy.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Keith's anguish as Black's dashboard lights up when he gives in and sits in the pilot's seat. "No, please, no!"
> 
>  
> 
>  

Keith locks eyes with Shiro as he broadcasts his recollection of the moment Black accepted him. Shiro gasps, glistening eyes wide.

 

 

"I heard you then."

 

 

Keith ducks his head, covering his face as he struggles through the memory. Hunk and Lance lean toward him as they understand for the first time just how conflicted Keith had been, his grief and reluctance at war with his duty to protect the universe from the Galra empire.

 

 

The paladins show Shiro their struggles as Allura was accepted by Blue, and Lance by Red, and the skirmishes with Lotor and his generals. Keith feels Shiro's pride as he watches the memories of him adapting to the new role. He fears the esteem from Shiro will be short-lived.

 

 

Shiro's face drains of blood as he watches someone with his face return to the Castle of Lions, claiming to be him. They all treated the interloper with the same kindness they would afford him, because they had faith it was really him.

 

 

Keith sucks in a breath most might call a sob as he experiences Shiro's horror second-hand, Shiro swallowing hard as he watches the man with his face allow Keith to go with the Blade of Marmora instead of staying in the relative safety of the Castle of Lions.   
  


 

"Oh, no," Shiro murmurs in a panicky voice.

 

 

Shiro digs his fingers into his thigh as he watches the events replay in his friends' heads. Keith aches to reach across the distance and take his hand from where it clenches around his twitching leg. Surely the tight grip has to be bruising him.

 

 

They show him the tense standoff between the Castle of Lions and Zarkon's ship. Shiro can't hold back a gasp as he realizes Zarkon was killed by his own son's hand.

 

 

"He's really gone?" Shiro heaves out between his own panting. He rips the headset off and stands; Keith follows and rubs his back.

 

 

"He's gone," Keith soothes. "For good."

 

 

Hunk jumps to his feet to pull them both into a hug. "Sorry, man, I know this is a lot."

 

 

Shiro lets them embrace him, clearly shaken by the rapid-fire images the mind-meld tech pushes into his brain.   
  


 

 

Slowly, he returns to his spot, Keith and Hunk following, and they resume their work.

 

 

Shiro seems to calm a bit as he wraps an arm around himself and witnesses the Holts returning safely to the Castle of Lions and Keith reuniting with his mother, Krolia. He grins as they all feel Keith's bewilderment and joy reflected through the mind-meld.

 

 

"I want to meet her," Shiro says.

 

 

"You will."

 

 

Their memories blend together as they all recall Keith coming to the Castleship to introduce his mother to everyone.

 

 

In Keith's memory, his hackles raise as he absorbs the tense atmosphere on the Castle of Lions, speaking with everyone but Shiro privately and realizing something is terribly wrong.

 

 

Keith visited Shiro last. Each of the paladins connected to the memory with the headset feels his goosebumps as the man expresses his happiness that Keith had found his mother, the genuine tone at odds with Keith's suspicion.

 

 

> Keith gave a small smile, the reflex not quite reaching his eyes as Shiro lay a heavy hand on his shoulder.

 

 

> "If anyone deserves to have another chance for a family, it's you," the man said in a gentle voice, breaking Keith's heart. He seemed so much like Shiro, just slightly off.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Keith gulped.

 

The five paladins experience Keith's heartbreak as if it is happening for the first time. Hunk groans empathetically, while Lance uses the back of his hand to wipe his face. Pidge takes a shuddering breath.

 

 

> "Shiro?" Keith said in a small voice from behind the taller man, who'd kept walking. "Is everything — are you all right?"
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Shiro turned around and ruffled Keith's hair.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "I'm fine. I've just had this headache for a while, and it's making me a little crazy," he said.

 

 

> Shiro's hand fell to Keith's back as he guided him to the bridge.   
>    
> 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "Why don't we go see what Allura and Lotor are up to and compare notes with what the Blade's willing to share with us."

 

 

Keith screws his eyes shut, resisting the tears threatening to build up in his eyes. He sniffles, frustrated with his emotions showing so plainly in front of the others, and locks eyes with Shiro.

 

 

"This is where it really gets FUBAR. Are you sure you're okay to keep going?"

 

 

Shiro straightens his posture where he sits on the floor. He runs a hand through his too-long hair and nods.

 

 

"I'm fine. Do you guys need to take a break?"

 

 

Keith explodes.

 

 

"Don't worry about US! This isn't the first time we're seeing this happen."

 

 

Hunk rubs Keith's back in an attempt to soothe the half-Galra man, which works about as well as rubbing a cat's fur the wrong way. Keith glares at Hunk like he might bite off the offending limb, and Hunk snatches his hand back hastily.

 

 

"Let's all just take a minute to breathe, all right?" Lance suggests in a slow, calm voice. "We're just watching what already happened. We're all here, we're all safe. It won't be that bad, right?"

 

 

Keith swallows thickly, fearing just how bad it will be when Shiro sees how they'd doomed him to months of torture.

 

 

"Okay, fine," he mutters, settling back between Hunk and Lance.

 

 

He tries to listen to Lance's advice, taking a deep, slow breath through his nose. He closes his eyes and again concentrates on the memory of that night.

 

 

> Shiro had eaten all the food on his plate, acting perfectly normal, and said he was going to go to bed early. Keith watched the man's back disappear through the doors of the mess hall. He looked up at the other paladins around the table, their faces a reflection of his anguish.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "Something's wrong with him," Keith gritted out.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Hunk nodded. "That's what we think too, but we weren't sure what to do about it. I think Haggar is using his arm to control him — remember, he has a molecular-level storage unit linked to his brain?"
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Keith stared flatly.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "What? What do you mean?"
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "Yeah," Pidge added. "Remember, the coordinates to the Blade base were in his arm? We think the witch is using that to either control him, or changed his memories, or both."
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "Oh, and he keeps mentioning a weird headache," Lance said. "So, maybe the headache is from the witch messing with his head."
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Keith sagged. "So what do we do?"
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "Why don't we just put him in the brig like Lotor was?" Lance asked. “It’s gotta be pretty secure if Big and Purple couldn’t get out.”
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "His hand can cut through Galra ships, I'm pretty sure he could get out of the brig, too," Pidge said. "We have to do something that keeps him immobile without hurting him."
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Hunk grimaced as he thought of something.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "What?" Keith demanded.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "What about the cryopods, like what we shoved Sendak in? They kept Coran and Allura in perfect condition for 10,000 years."
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "Hey, yeah," Lance said, his enthusiasm for the idea growing. "He'll just take a little nap until we figure out how to fix it."
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Keith slammed his hands to the table.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "How we fix it is we kill Haggar. I'm not putting him in one of those things until I know he won't be uncomfortable. I'm going to go talk to Allura about what it's like." 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Keith stalked out of the mess hall and down the castle's halls until he reached Allura's door. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  He paused before knocking, fear and uncertainty mixing sickly in his stomach.
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "Come in," Allura called.
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Keith walked in, surprised to see the princess had a large suite, including a kind of sitting room where she waited for him. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  The princess stood as he entered the room in short, uncertain strides. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "Please, sit down." 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Keith settled uncomfortably into the molded plastisteel. He sat stiffly, feeling awkward in the princess's personal quarters. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  She took a seat once he had done so, folding her hands in her lap. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "How can I help you, Keith?" 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "Princess, what do you remember of your time in the cryopod?"
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  She froze for a moment, not expecting the question. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "I truly remember nothing," she said. "The last thing I remember is my father sealing me in the pod, and the next thing is waking up to you all."
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Keith nodded, staring at the floor as he considered her words. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "Princess, have you noticed Shiro acting unusually?"
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  She winces. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "Yes; I had believed him to be reacting to the extraordinary stress we're all under," she said. "However, I know you've been speaking with the other paladins about your concerns."
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Keith gnawed on his lower lip. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "How did you know that? I thought we were being subtle." 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Allura smiled wanly.   
> 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  "Everyone seems to forget I'm psychically linked to a colony of 10,000-year-old mice. Now, please tell me what you've observed." 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Keith stared at the soft carpeted floor of Allura's sitting room. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "Something just isn't right with him," he said quietly. "I'm not sure what it is."
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Allura's expression turned serious, almost austere. Her fingers tangled together in her lap and she sat ramrod straight. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  "Keith, something we haven't been able to share with you is that I recently visited a place of great importance to Altea, a place called Oriande, where I learned information I believe will allow me to put an end to Haggar and the sickness brought about by the corrupted quintessence within her. This will not be a simple undertaking, and any advantage we have over the witch may be the difference between freedom and subjugation for all of us.”
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> She disentangles her fingers and places one of her delicate hands over his.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> "Speak plainly, Keith. We should not allow any misunderstandings to come between us."
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Keith looked into her gemstone eyes, his mouth a set line. His jaw clenched as he considered his words carefully. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "I think Shiro is ... corrupted, or something, by Haggar. I can’t explain it, he just feels wrong to me, like a piece of him is missing or blocked away. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> “I think we have to kill her to end the spell, or end her access to him. And I think we have to find a way to keep him secure without letting Haggar know that she doesn't have that access to Lotor and our plans." 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Allura nodded slowly. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "It’s very perceptive of you to come to this conclusion. And you think the cryopod is the best way to accomplish that?" 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "It's the best idea we have so far," Keith muttered. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Allura hummed. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "I don't think it's a bad idea, but how do we convince him to get into the cryopod without alerting Haggar?"
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Keith's hands found their way into his hair. His fingers gripped the dark strands, tightening as he considered the situation they're in. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "I don't know," he admitted. "I can't just shove him in a — a people freezer." 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Allura's eyebrows drew in as she bore witness to Keith's anguish. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "Once we set him to rights, I hope he will understand and forgive us," she said, her eyes glistening with tears. She abruptly cleared her throat and stood, reaching into a bureau for a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes delicately before taking an unsteady breath and returning to her seat across from Keith. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "If one of us can get close enough to him to give him a tranquilizer, then we can get him in the cryopod and scan him for any devices or quintessence," Allura said. "Once I kill Haggar, we can remove any of her experimentation on Shiro and he will be good as new." 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Keith snorted humorlessly.
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  Allura wrung her hands in her lap, a quirk Keith was quickly realizing as a signal of mental distress in the princess. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
>  "Both of us," she murmured. "Both of us."   
> .

  
Keith looks up as the memory fizzles out, stubbornly making eye contact with Shiro despite the gnawing feelings of fear and guilt twisting in his gut.

 

 

Shiro looks no less overwhelmed than he has all day, but he sits calmly in the circle, as if Keith hasn't just revealed how he plotted to cryogenically freeze his best friend, how he eventually forced him to submit to more months of torture, though it was unwittingly done.

 

 

Hunk, Lance and Pidge exchange glances between the three of them, Pidge's eyes widening as she wordlessly urges someone else to say something.

 

 

Hunk clears his throat, making Keith jump.

 

 

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm starting to get hungry after all this," Hunk says in his deep, booming voice. "Why don't I go heat up some of our 'welcome back, Shiro' leftovers?"

 

 

Shiro breaks his gaze from Keith and smiles warmly.

 

 

"That sounds great, Hunk, thank you."

 

 

Hunk slips the equipment off his forehead with enthusiasm.

 

 

"Okay, I'm gonna go do that! Lance, Pidge, come help me?"

 

 

They clamber to their feet, piling their headsets on a nearby couch.

 

 

"See you guys there!" Pidge says, tugging Lance along as he glances between Shiro and Keith, a worried furrow in his brow.

 

 

As they leave, Keith pulls the headset off and re-ties his hair, the silence in the room deafening him.

 

 

He runs out of things to fidget with and bites his lip.

 

 

"Shiro, I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am that we put you through this."

 

 

Shiro stands slowly and crosses over to Keith, his hand raising to Keith's shoulder. Keith freezes as Shiro pulls him into a hug, directing Keith's head to lay on his chest. 

 

 

Keith can hear Shiro’s heartbeat beneath his vest, steady and reassuring. Shiro’s fingers tangle in his hair as he clutches the shorter man to him. 

 

 

Keith's hands graze Shiro's back, and then he's gripping Shiro's T-shirt tight despite himself. The embrace is nothing like the bracing bro-hugs they've exchanged so many times in the past. It’s somehow both soothing and exhilarating, and Keith wants to stay in Shiro’s embrace and bask in the feeling. 

 

 

Shiro's chest rumbles as he murmurs to Keith.

 

 

"I understand that you feel like you need to apologize, Keith, and you can keep doing it if it makes you feel better."

 

 

His arm tightens around Keith, soothingly solid.

 

 

"I just want you to know, whatever you did, I've already forgiven you. You didn't cause this to happen to me, but I forgive you."

 

 

Keith feels his face crumple in Shiro’s broad chest and he hangs on to the other man as he fights to calm himself. 

 

 

“Fuck, I missed you,” he mutters wetly, causing Shiro to snort in laughter. 

 

 

“Missed you too, Keith.” 

 

 

Despite the lunch break coming as a transparent excuse for the others to give Keith some space, it does serve as an excellent opportunity to calm down some, Keith thinks. Coran was not joking about the draining intensity of sharing extensive memories through the mind-meld. 

 

  
While Keith feels refreshed, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be really ready to show Shiro the memory of how he got Shiro into the cryopod, and he admits as much to Shiro as they eat. 

 

  
  
"Y'know, the rest of us were around, and we don't absolutely have to relive it either," Pidge says, as gentle as the blunt green paladin ever is. 

 

  
  
Shiro looks thoughtful. 

 

  
  
“If you don’t want to use the mind-meld, maybe you could just tell me and then we can skip to the other important stuff,” he suggests gently. 

 

  
  
Keith ponders, feeling his face close off. 

 

  
  
“Or you don’t have to tell me right now, or at all,” Shiro says. “I know you did what you had to do to get me here, and that’s all that really matters.” 

 

  
  
Keith wonders how it is Shiro can be so forgiving of him, when Keith can't forgive himself. 

 

  
  
He sighs, resigning himself to getting it over with. 

 

  
  
"I went to talk to you - him - ugh," Keith growls. "Haggar triggered something and you attacked me with a plasma sword. I cut off your Galra arm and you passed out. Then we got attacked and I almost didn't get you in the cryopod in time, and you were waking up and it was awful."

 

  
  
Shiro's eyes widen as he remembers the flash of blue-green glass and fog. 

 

  
  
He scratches at the back of his head, thoughtful.

 

  
  
"When I was waking up, I think it was really me for a minute," Shiro says. "I remember seeing the pod from the inside for a moment."    


 

  
Keith hangs his head. 

 

  
  
"Shiro, what if you were **back** and I sent you back to the astral plane?"

 

  
  
Hunk interrupts. 

 

  
  
"Keith, you know that's not what happened, remember we had to get rid of Haggar to break the enchantment she had on him?" 

 

  
  
"Yeah, buddy," Lance chimes in. "Don't be so hard on yourself." 

 

  
  
"Okay, okay." Keith stares at the table, an embarrassed blush rising on his face. He's so bad at talking about feelings. Shit. 

 

  
  
He glances up and Shiro is looking at him with such a warm expression he literally can't look at the other man for more than a second or two. His silver hair make his soft grey eyes stand out even more.

 

  
  
Shiro clears his throat, his ears pink. Great, now Keith even has Shiro embarrassed for him. 

 

  
  
"Guys, do you think you could give me a no mind-meld debriefing on how you beat Haggar? I'm not trying to throw in the towel, but I have to be honest, that wore me out worse than a morning of fighting the training bots." 

 

  
  
Lance squawks indignantly and Hunk looks offended. 

 

  
  
"Dude, no one would think you're chickening out, that was so rough. We can tell you what we know, though Allura is going to have to explain the Altean alchemy stuff." 

 

  
  
Between the three of them, Pidge, Hunk and Lance explain how they'd traveled to the white hole where Oriande is located, and Allura learned whatever mysterious secrets there were from her ancestral oracles. 

 

  
  
She had trouble explaining what the oracle had told her she had to do to defeat Haggar and her druids to the humans, who had little frame of reference for her magical abilities. She asked them to keep sentries and other Galra away from Haggar's lair when she attacked, Hunk explains. 

 

  
  
Lance looks troubled as he describes what he'd been able to see from his sniper's perch high above the action. 

 

  
  
"She fought so fast, I could barely see her," he recalls. "Everything Haggar or one of those druids threw at her, she just absorbed and sent it back twice as powerful. It was amazing, but it was scary as hell." 

 

  
  
Allura had explained beforehand that if she siphoned enough energy from the druids, the paladins would be able to take them out with their bayards.  

 

  
  
Lance waited to shoot the druids until her signal, he remembers. Then, it was just Allura and Haggar, and the two Alteans whirled around the other like a windstorm. 

 

  
  
"She didn't tell us what she had to do," Pidge recalls. 

 

  
  
"What did she have to do?" Shiro has to ask. 

 

  
  
"It was like, she had to basically consume the quintessence they shot at her and somehow convert it into non-evil energy somehow." 

 

  
  
Lance studies his own hands as he remembers. 

 

  
  
"She used their own quintessence against them, but Haggar was 10,000 years old and so strong, it almost killed her to absorb her darkness. But she did it, and Haggar was like, dust, and then she said —" 

 

  
  
"It is done," Shiro says, remembering. 

 

  
  
"Heard that, did you?" Lance raises an eyebrow. "So after Haggar was gone, it was like all the stuff she'd done just ended, like all the robeasts and old generals just kind of dropped dead. And so that's how we got you back." 

 

  
  
"What happened to Allura?"

 

  
  
"She was so weak and sick, we put her in a pod as soon as we could. She's been there for about three days, and we expect she'll wake up soon," Pidge reports. 

 

  
  
"And 'Emperor' Lotor has been keeping vigil at her side." 

 

  
  
Lance looks faintly ill at the thought of the Galra he disliked so intensely doing something so... nice. 

 

  
  
"Yeah," Shiro breathes out. "So we're allies with Lotor now. That's so weird." 

 

  
  
"You're telling us." Hunk claps Shiro on the back and collects everyone's plates before ducking into the kitchen. 

 

****  
  
Shiro leans back in his chair, mind whirling with the information. The leaders of the Galra empire for 10 millennia are really dead. They can't hurt him again. 

 

  
  
He looks from Lance, to Pidge, his gaze finally landing on Keith. 

 

  
  
"So, what's next?" 

 

  
  
Pidge sucks her teeth. She looks like she's dreading telling Shiro something. 

 

  
  
"There's more."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The silence in the room is just this side of uncomfortable and Shiro casts his gaze around the room, searching for a conversational topic that isn't 'I'm a fucking mess' or 'you keep saving my ass.'
> 
> Shiro remembers back to this morning, which feels like it happened about a week ago, when he realized Keith's been sleeping in his room. 
> 
> "Um, so I noticed you kinda moved in here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: Andy (mondaijo.tumblr.com)   
> Betas: Alex, Aria, Rue and Nova
> 
> This chapter includes a description of a panic attack caused by a PTSD flashback. If you would like to skip this passage, it begins at "A cold lump settles in Shiro’s stomach," and ends at "Shiro models his respiration after Keith's, feeling the tension drain out of him like water down a sink."
> 
> Be gentle with yourselves.

Hunk comes out of the kitchen and Shiro watches uneasily as he forms a united front at the table with Pidge and Lance, wondering if they've rehearsed whatever they're about to say. 

 

"You guys are not making me any less nervous," Shiro says as Pidge steels herself to start talking. 

 

Keith snorts quietly. He puts a hand on Shiro’s back and it’s grounding, soothing in a way Shiro apparently can’t be for himself right now. 

 

"It's a little bit of a good news, bad news situation," Pidge admits. "The good news is that Haggar's spell to use you to spy on us is definitely gone. The bad news is the mechanisms she used to do that remain, and we will need to remove them to make sure nobody can use you like that again." 

 

Shiro's flesh fingertips tingle as he struggles to comprehend what that means for him.

 

"So you need to what, take what’s left of my arm off?" 

 

"Yes." Hunk folds his hands in front of him like a doctor telling a patient's family members they didn't make it. "We designed a new prosthetic for you from luxite that will be lighter and also doesn't have any super secret mind-controlling abilities." 

 

Shiro exchanges a glance with Keith, whose mouth is held in a firm line. Keith’s hand rubs at his tight shoulders. Shiro wonders, is it only to comfort him? Or is Keith needing to calm himself as well?

 

His breathing speeds up and he feels the bizarre tingling spread from his fingertips to his wrists. Strangely, he can feel it in the space where his Galra arm used to be. His mind whirls as he tries to remain calm in front of everyone.

 

"This doesn't sound that bad so far. What aren't you all telling me?"

 

Pidge adjusts her glasses, causing the Castleship’s lights to flare off the lenses for a flash.

 

"We will have to use anesthesia to safely remove the remains of the arm, and your arm will have to heal before we can put the new prosthesis on. We — meaning me, Hunk and Coran — don't have the surgical experience to remove the Galra prosthesis, so we have asked Ryner and the Olkari to help us out."

 

"The thing nobody wants to tell you is they have to do surgery on your eye, too," Lance blurts. Pidge shoves him lightly. 

 

"My eye? What for?" 

 

Shiro grips his thigh beneath the table, the painful pressure from his fingertips distracting him from the way his pulse is rising. 

 

"We scanned you while you were in the cryopod, and the druids implanted a tiny device in your eye, what we think is probably a camera that helped Haggar use you for surveillance. It wouldn't be the first time she's made modifications to peoples' eyes, and it helps explain why you were having headaches."

 

His ears begin ringing. 

 

"Will I lose my eye?" Shiro hates the plaintive tone creeping into his voice. 

 

"No, no, buddy. Ryner and the OIkari have a really great surgery team they promise us will keep you in great shape. You might have to hop into a healing pod for a few hours to heal up, but then you'll be all good." Hunk looks like he wants to hug Shiro, but Shiro feels like he's going to be sick. 

 

"Ok, so let me see if I understand," Shiro says as calmly as he can. He swallows loudly enough that the paladins across the table can probably hear it. 

 

"We'll go to Olkarion, where I have to be put under to take off my — the Galra arm and remove a camera in my eye that Haggar was using to spy on us all. Then I will have to go into a healing pod until my stump is healed enough for you guys to fit a new prosthetic for me."

 

Shiro is proud of the way his voice stays steady, though he is probably going to have bruises on his leg where he is gripping. 

 

"I suppose you wouldn't have to go in the healing pod if you don't mind waiting a little longer," Pidge says. "We were planning to head to Earth once your surgery is complete, but it's going to take a while since we can't wormhole." 

 

Right, Shiro thinks. Allura is the only one who can make wormholes happen, except for the lions. And the lions don't really take requests. 

 

"Why can't I just have all this fixed on Earth?" 

 

"We don't know if Earth surgeons are advanced enough to remove the druid tech safely. And I trust the Olkari." 

 

Pidge lays a hand on the table, upturned, forcing Shiro to remove his clawing grip from his own leg and hold her hand gently. 

 

A breath shudders through him. 

 

"I trust you, Pidge. This is just... a lot."

 

Pidge bites her lip, looking younger than she has in a long time. She just holds his hand for a short while. 

 

"I know it is, Shiro. We've got about three quintants before we get to Olkarion, so you've got a little time to adjust, recover and get comfortable with the idea. We can show you the plans and the arm we engineered — the Blades gave us some luxite to use, isn't that awesome? — and if you want, we can contact the Olkari and talk to the surgery team before we land, so you can get comfortable with them."

 

Shiro smiles at the young woman. 

 

"I'd like that, Pidge." 

 

He stands and stretches, feeling more than ever like the Galra arm, even in its truncated form, is weighing on him, physically and mentally. Shiro feels like something is going to break within him. He just hopes it won't happen where the rest of the younger paladins can see him lose it. 

 

"My — the Galra arm — it feels heavier?" Shiro looks at the rest of the paladins. "Did I lose some muscle tone while I was in the cryopod?"

 

Hunk hums thoughtfully, exchanging a glance with Pidge as if they're communicating non-verbally. 

 

"You shouldn't have lost any muscle, the pod is designed to keep muscles from atrophying while you're in stasis." 

 

Pidge raises a finger. 

 

"What if part of the arm was powered by Haggar's enchantment? Maybe it's wearing off now that she's dead." 

 

Shiro feels the muscles in his back and neck begin tensing again. He sits back down at the table roughly, jostling the rest of the group despite the table and chairs being bolted to the floor. 

 

"So is it just going to stop working? What if it starts malfunctioning? I don't want to hurt anyone!" 

 

"Hey, hey, hey, whoa buddy," Hunk puts his hands up. "I don't think any of that is going to happen in three quintants, but we can check it out for you just in case." 

 

"What will you have to do to 'check it out?'" Keith growls. The paladins on the other side of the table don't look taken aback by this protective behavior. They take it completely in stride, actually. 

 

Shiro gets the feeling it's been happening a fair bit since Keith made himself responsible for tranquilizing and putting Shiro in the cryopod. The idea makes something in his chest feel warm. 

 

Pidge explains, step-by-step, that they would use some of her electronic tools to connect to the arm and run diagnostics on it. Though the port where she normally would have connected tools to is gone, she can still basically hot-wire what’s left of the arm, she says. 

 

"That's fine by me. Where do we need to do this?" Shiro would like to get it over with so he can do something useful, like familiarizing himself with all the intel he's missed or training to feel steadier on his feet again. 

 

Or finding a closet to hide in where he can fall to pieces in private. 

 

"We'll have to go to the infirmary, just so I can use all the scanning equipment available," Pidge explains. 

 

"Let's head out, then."

 

Hunk and Lance split off from the group to do maintenance on the lions and Shiro learns from Pidge and Keith that Matt stayed long enough to see Shiro wake up, but had to meet with the rebel forces he's a part of before rejoining them on their way to Earth. 

 

Lotor, it seems, has been waiting at Allura's side since she entered the healing pod, despite having recently become emperor of the Galra empire. 

 

To Shiro, it sounds like Lotor is quite dedicated for someone who ostensibly has subjects across the galaxy and demands on his attention. 

 

Shiro doesn't know what to make of it. It seems Lance deeply dislikes the young emperor, but trusts him with Allura's safety, regardless. The rest of the paladins seem to tolerate the half-Galra fine; even Keith, who historically doesn't trust new people — Shiro can attest to this, from their early months as mentor and mentee at the Galaxy Garrison — has accepted Lotor into their ragtag group, it appears. 

 

Shiro has missed a lot. His right foot jiggles as he sits on what passes for an examining table in the Castleship's infirmary. It's hard not to fixate on the sensation of being out of the loop. 

 

He holds his Galra stump still, supporting above the elbow with his other hand as Pidge attaches wires to the metallic innards and a diagnostic program is projected above the table. Pidge mutters to herself and scrolls through the data while Shiro exchanges a glance with Keith, who stands hovering over Pidge’s shoulder, looking oddly tense for not being the one being examined. 

 

"Sooo..." Shiro says, drawing it out for what he hopes is comedic effect. "How's your mom?"

 

Keith smirks at him, relaxing infinitesimally, though he leaves his arms crossed. 

 

"You know, the usual. Trying to save the universe with the Blade of Marmora while juggling being a single mom of a paladin of Voltron.” 

 

"Oooh," Shiro says, chuckling. Pidge glares at him for jostling his arm and he stills. "Is she coming to Earth with us?" 

 

Keith purses his lips as he ponders. "I don't think she is, because she's still helping the Blade right now. She might join us when we come back, though." 

 

"I would like to meet her," Shiro says softly. "When we get back to Earth, will you come to Osaka with me and meet my grandparents?" 

 

A brilliant smile crosses Keith's face. 

 

"I'd be honored," he says, his face flushing. "If that's what you want, of course." 

 

Shiro's eyes roam over his face, wondering what he has to blush about. 

 

"Of course," he murmurs in response. 

 

Pidge claps abruptly. 

 

"Looks to me like you'll be fine until we get to Olkarion," she says, a mysterious smirk twisting her lips as she detaches from the stump. "There does look like there's some deterioration between the prosthetic's connections and your arm, but it's not advanced enough for me to worry too much. It's probably part crappy engineering and part lack of maintenance. Let me know if you start to feel anything different, okay?" 

 

"All right, Pidge, thank you." 

 

Shiro ruffles her hair and she looks at him, bright-eyed, before rushing to hug him abruptly. He pats her back with his flesh arm, touched. 

 

She steps back, fiddling with the wires and diagnostic tools. 

 

"Don't mention it, Shiro. I'm gonna go check on Coran, he's probably bored to tears on the bridge all alone." 

 

She scoots out the door, surprisingly fast for someone with legs so short. 

 

Shiro rubs at the back of his head, mildly annoyed at the overlong hair there. 

 

"So this all has been... overwhelming," he says wryly. "What do I do now?"

 

Keith shifts his weight to one slim hip.

 

"Well, you said it, this has been a lot. What do you think you can handle? We could go help with the lions' maintenance, we could go to the bridge and you could start looking through intel, or you could take a nap, if you want."

 

Shiro hums, considering. He still feels overwhelmed and frankly, kind of exhausted, but he craves a return to normalcy. Whatever that means. 

 

"You could do absolutely nothing for the next three days and no one would say boo to you," Keith says. "You've definitely earned it." 

 

Keith pats him on the back with a lingering touch. Shiro rolls his eyes, but he feels his cheeks warm. He steps back, his body tingling where he made contact with Keith. 

 

"I don't think I could do nothing," he admits. "Sitting still feels... wrong. Itchy? I don't know. As overwhelmed as I feel, I definitely don't think I could take a nap. Why don't we go see if we can give Hunk and Lance a hand?" 

 

"Okay." 

 

When they arrive in the hangar, Hunk directs them to clean the lions, while he and Lance are about halfway through routine maintenance. 

 

They slip on their armor, a surreal feeling for Shiro. Keith helps where Shiro seems to be struggling, always seeming to step up right as Shiro gets frustrated. 

 

He’s got an extra gauntlet, of course, and he just leaves it in the locker. It looks forlorn to him, alone in the storage space, but he tries not to dwell on the equipment meant to protect his missing limb. 

 

Despite the awkwardness of putting on the armor, using the controls is like riding a proverbial bicycle; it comes back naturally to Shiro. 

 

Shiro and Keith start with Green, using their jetpacks to hover above the smallest lion and make sure there’s no debris that could block the giant robot’s joints or weapons. It’s at once thrilling and a little disconcerting to use the propelling force to rise dozens of feet in the air, soaring over the heads of the lions. 

 

Lance and Hunk laugh as Keith hoses Green off. 

 

“What?” Shiro and Keith say it near simultaneously. 

 

“You can’t feel that? Green is grumbling because she doesn’t like being wet,” Hunk says. 

 

“I guess we need to spend some time with the lions again.” A cold lump settles in Shiro’s stomach. 

 

He feels his chest tighten as he begins to envision the worst-case scenario. What if Black won’t accept him after all this? What if he’s tainted by the witch’s dark magic and even her death doesn’t reverse it? 

 

Shiro imagines hearing the rest of the paladins calling for him desperately as he's cut off from Black, slamming his hands against the lion's force field uselessly. 

 

"Shiro!" Keith, Lance and Hunk are shouting. 

 

He snaps out of his reverie a second before he slams into the ground of the hangar. He gives the jet pack a boost, gasping, and stumbles to a halt a few feet from a heavy metal bulkhead. 

 

"Shit!" Shiro gasps, sliding down the bulkhead and landing heavily on his ass, his armor and jet pack clanging against the metal surfaces. 

 

His vision narrows, darkening. He can't get a breath. The tingle in his hand is back and he feels like everything is too loud, too bright, too much. He's gasping and the armor is choking him; he claws at it ineffectually. 

 

Keith is there. Keith lifts the chest plate, the gauntlets, the shoulder armor, but none of it makes Shiro feel any less asphyxiated. His eyes water as his fingers dig into his metal shoulder. His fingernails skitter along the slick surface, pinpoints of pain lighting up in the maelstrom of whatever's happening to him. 

 

There are voices and footsteps, but Shiro can't focus on them, all he seems to be able to think about is the pounding of his heart, the roaring in his ears. He's a broken thing, he thinks, of course Black won't accept him. He imagines the violet spirals of Haggar's magic curling up in his chest, choking him as they make a home within him. 

 

Something peels his grip from his own shoulder and holds on to his hand. He imagines it's Keith and he tries to breathe around the way his heart feels like it's exploding. His lungs ache and his eyes are watering. A part of Shiro muses what he's doing could be called sobbing if he could just fucking breathe. 

 

At some point, minutes or an hour later, Shiro can’t tell, the burning abates somewhat and he begins to be able to hear over the sound of himself falling to pieces. He realizes he's shaking and pain begins to blossom at his fingertips, where he realizes he had gripped so desperately he shredded his fingernails. 

 

Keith is still holding onto his hand despite its shaking. He's talking in a steady voice, not talking over Shiro, and Shiro strains to hear what he's saying. 

 

"Hey, Takashi, we're breathing in, and we're breathing out. I'm taking slow breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth. Hey. Hey there, Shiro. You're coming out of it, you're gonna be fine. Everything's gonna be okay."

 

He carries on like this while Shiro works to control his breathing, working through nausea roiling through his gut as he comes down from the panic attack. 

 

Shiro looks around and realizes Lance and Hunk have left the hangar, a small balm on the embarrassment that's rising as his heart calms. Keith keeps talking low, his steady attention on Shiro belied by the freaked-out look in his eyes. 

 

"Okay," Shiro says when Keith pauses. "I'm okay. Thank you." 

 

Keith smiles, still gripping Shiro's hand. 

 

"Let's sit here and breathe for a few minutes."

 

Shiro models his respiration after Keith's, feeling the tension drain out of him like water down a sink. 

 

He feels fucking awful. He's sweaty, his face yet again wet with tears, his fingers hurt, and he's so ashamed he can't just keep it together in front of everybody else. 

 

"I'm sor—" Shiro bites his tongue when he sees Keith's face shift into indignation. 

 

"Don't apologize. That was my fault, Shiro, we should have taken it easier today. You just woke up and we are all emotionally burned out after the mind-meld."

 

Shiro gently pulls his hand away and scrubs at his face, drained and suddenly wanting nothing more than to be in a bed, any bed. 

 

Keith rises to his feet and offers Shiro a hand up. Shiro looks around for the armor he'd shed in his frenzy, but there's nothing. 

 

"Lance and Hunk took it to your room," Keith says, reading his mind as he hefts the larger man to his feet. "Let's go get your hand cleaned up and then I think you should try to sleep." 

 

Shiro doubts sleep will come to him easily, but he knows he needs to rest if nothing else. 

 

Keith is steadfast throughout the ordeal, tending to Shiro’s torn nails and guiding him to his room. He helps Shiro get into comfortable sleep pants and a t-shirt, pulling a tank top and similar pants on himself. He arranges the pillows and blankets in Shiro's bed so Shiro can lounge a little elevated, and sits in a chair next to him. 

 

Shiro tries to ignore the stinging pain in his hand and considers Keith. 

 

He's been helpful and supportive to a fault and Shiro wonders what he's done to deserve a best friend like him. 

 

He feels ... bashful, he supposes is the word. He's not embarrassed to lose it in front of Keith, unlike the other paladins, because they've supported each other through stress and panic before. 

 

Keith seems content to just sit there and make sure Shiro doesn't exert himself. 

 

The silence in the room is just this side of uncomfortable and Shiro casts his gaze around the room, searching for a conversational topic that isn't 'I'm a fucking mess' or 'you keep saving my ass.'

 

Shiro remembers back to this morning, which feels like it happened about a week ago, when he realized Keith's been sleeping in his room. 

 

"Um, so I noticed you kinda moved in here."

 

Keith crosses his arms, expression neutral, as he sits with Shiro. 

 

"Yeah."

 

He doesn't seem to be inclined to explain himself further. 

 

"So... did you want me to switch rooms with you?"

 

Keith wrinkles his brow. 

 

"No, why? Do you want to switch rooms?"

 

Shiro chews on the inside of his lip as he considers how to express himself. He feels like Keith is purposely missing his point, but maybe Shiro is just making a big deal out of nothing. 

 

"No, I don't want to switch rooms. But you can't sleep in that chair, so are we bunking together, or do we need to grab a cot from somewhere?"

 

"Oh." 

 

Keith's ears redden under the loose strands of his ponytail. 

 

"I didn't think about that. I can just go back to my room."

 

Shiro tries to ignore the anxiety that rises at the thought of being alone. 

 

"You don't have to do that. I can sleep on a cot, there's plenty of room in here for one." 

 

"You're not sleeping on a damn cot, I can sleep on a cot."

 

Shiro lets his head roll back until he's gazing at the ceiling. He waits a beat, his guts doing funny things for some reason. 

 

"Or we could just both sleep on the bed." 

 

He doesn't look directly at Keith, but he can see the man out of the corner of his eye. The silence lengthens as Keith sits there like a rock.

 

"That's fine with me," Keith finally says. 

 

Shiro glances over at him. Keith hasn't moved, but he looks frozen somehow. 

 

“Okay, good. I’m exhausted. I know it’s probably time to eat, but I’d just as soon go straight to bed.” 

 

Shiro grabs one of the pillows and scoots closer to the edge nearest the wall of the bunk. 

 

He settles into the bed, noting the pillow smells faintly of Keith. He wiggles until his bandaged hand is situated on the pillow near his face and slightly elevated. 

 

Shiro realizes as he makes himself comfortable that Keith hasn’t moved. He leans on his elbow, sitting up a little to look at the other man. He feels a little too vulnerable looking up at him while laying prone, despite — or maybe because of — the trying day he’s had. 

 

“Is this okay?” 

 

Shiro can’t discern what Keith’s feeling. He hasn’t made a move to leave the chair yet, but his eyes are firmly tethered to Shiro. 

 

Keith finally clears his throat and stands before settling on the open half of the bed. 

 

“It’s more than okay.”

 

Keith lies down, facing Shiro. He smooths Shiro’s hair out of his face, his hand lingering at Shiro’s nape. This close, Shiro can see the emotion in his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry I’m being so, um, so weird,” Keith stammers. “It’s just… you’re here, you’re safe. I have wanted this for so long and now I have it.” 

 

Shiro feels a lump rising in his throat. He’s never known Keith to be so emotive, and knowing Keith feels comfortable enough to share such powerful feelings with him is nothing short of revelatory. 

 

Shiro has long considered Keith his best friend, but he knows by now it’s more than that to him. He spent long enough in the astral plane thinking about Keith that he can acknowledge his feelings have deepened over time. Shiro doesn’t know if Keith will ever return his feelings completely, romantically, but this, just lying alongside one another, is more than he could have ever asked for. 

 

Shiro closes his eyes against the rising emotion and shifts closer to Keith. 

 

“You keep saving me,” he says lowly. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.” 

 

Suddenly, Keith’s warm hands are pulling him closer, his face cradled to Keith’s newly broad chest. Shiro feels the heat rising off his skin and snakes his bruised hand under Keith’s arm, grasping at Keith’s back. If there’s a better sensation in the world than being cradled in Keith’s arms, he doesn’t know it. 

 

“Don’t you know I’m the one returning the favor? I don’t know why you saw potential in me, but you saved me, when I was a broken little thing in the foster home. You were the only one who cared for so long.”

 

Keith is crying, Shiro can feel it in the way his breath heaves and stutters. Shiro rubs his back and embraces him as best he can with only one arm. 

 

“It’s only fair I save you a time or two,” Keith sighs. 

 

“I think you’re up to three or four,” Shiro murmurs wetly into his neck. Despite himself, he yawns as the weight of the day hits him all at once. 

 

Keith huffs a laugh into Shiro’s hair. 

 

“Sleep. I’ll be here.” 

 

So Shiro does.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro finds himself pacing the halls of the Castleship after the video conference with the Olkari. His mind is racing again. He knows it probably doesn't do any good to fixate, but he can't stop wondering what it was about him that caused Haggar to sit up and take notice. Why did she choose him of all creatures in the universe to target, to manipulate, to break?
> 
> Shiro guesses he'll never know, since she's dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks and tears to Andy (mondaijo.tumblr.com) for the absolutely gorgeous art featured in this chapter. 
> 
> Betas: Alex, Aria, Nova and Rue <3

Shiro wakes up slow.

 

He's never been one for sleeping in, but as he drowsily snuggles into the warmth of his bed, he supposes he has earned at least one lazy morning. Technically, his body has been asleep for months, but his spirit has been without rest for far longer.

 

He puts that train of thought on pause as he realizes much of the soft warmth he's been enjoying is coming from the man wrapped around him.

 

They'd fallen asleep facing each other, but at some point in the night, Keith had nestled his head under Shiro's chin, enveloped Shiro in his arms and sneaked a leg between Shiro's own.

* * *

Shiro tries to remain still but relaxed, knowing if he tenses up, Keith is likely to notice even if he is still asleep. He breathes deeply, his nose buried in strands of Keith's hair.

 

For so long, existence had been torment. Shiro finds this is another kind of torture, an exquisite pleasure marred only by the fact that it will have to end.

 

He can't help himself. He inhales Keith's clean, warm scent and lets out a soft, "Mmmm," a sleepy noise that inadvertently alerts Keith he's awake.

 

Keith's arms tighten around him for a moment. Shiro returns the embrace shamelessly, snuggling against Keith.

 

Keith freezes.

 

"Shiro?!"

 

"G'morning." Shiro's voice purrs rough as a satisfied house cat. "I haven't slept that well since before I left for Kerberos."

 

Keith still hasn't moved, his fingers ten points of tension along Shiro's shoulders.

 

"I'm glad," Keith says, his warm breath teasing along Shiro's neck and chest. He begins easing back out of the bed, leaving Shiro bereft of the warmth he's been basking in for the last few minutes.

 

Shiro lets him go with no small amount of hesitation, but he notices Keith is acting stiff and uncomfortable.

 

He leans up on his elbow, studying the other man as he inches away, turning his back.

 

"Keith," Shiro says, dopey as always despite himself, "I am sorry if this made you uncomfortable. Even if it was the best sleep I've gotten in years."

 

Tension drains from Keith's shoulders, bared by his simple tank top, as he huffs a short, raspy laugh.

 

"I'm not — I wouldn't call it uncomfortable," Keith admits.

 

Shiro flops onto his back, bouncing the other man slightly.

 

"All right," he says easily. No reason to push it. He can find somewhere else to sleep tonight if Keith still seems awkward by then. Though Shiro definitely wouldn't mind one more night cuddled up to Keith, who has always run a little hotter than Shiro. He was like a personal space heater.

 

That warmth is something Shiro didn't realize he wanted. But it seems like Keith didn't share his enjoyment of the experience, as he moves with strangely stilted steps to the bathroom.

 

Shiro feels a small pang of disappointment, which he quickly squashes. There’s too much to be grateful for right now for him to be hung up on the fact that his best friend didn't find co-sleeping to be the religious experience he'd had.

 

If it weren't for Keith and the other paladins, Shiro could still be trapped in the astral realm. Shiro chides the part of him that wants to hoard Keith's soft embraces selfishly. Keith is his best friend and Shiro may have — ok, definitely has — feelings for him, but Keith isn't his.

 

Shiro rolls out of the bed and pulls on clean clothes before Keith emerges from the bathroom.

 

"Ready for breakfast?" Keith asks, not meeting his eyes.

 

"Lead the way," Shiro says lightly.

 

The day passes startlingly fast, as Shiro fills the hours with reading intel and quizzing the rest of the ship's inhabitants to help him begin filling the gaps.

 

They're about two quintants' worth of slow space travel away from Olkarion and Shiro can feel the anxiety ramping up as the procedure to remove the Galra tech from him nears.

 

Hunk, good as his word, queues up a video conference with Ryner and several other Olkari, including Shiro's surgery team. Between Hunk, Pidge and the team of four willowy, soothing Olkari, they explain what they'll do to Shiro to sedate him and remove the camera and the Galra arm stump.

 

On one hand, the Olkari seem to be ready to be extremely accommodating of Shiro's discomfort, but on the other hand, Shiro wonders if they can really understand just how uneasy medical shit makes him now.

 

He supposes they have had more than their fair share of mistreatment by the Galra themselves. It doesn't make the anxiety sitting like a rock in his stomach any less unsettling.

 

Shiro finds himself pacing the halls of the Castleship after the video conference with the Olkari. His mind is racing again. He knows it probably doesn't do any good to fixate, but he can't stop wondering what it was about him that caused Haggar to sit up and take notice. Why did she choose him of all creatures in the universe to target, to manipulate, to break?

 

Shiro guesses he'll never know, since she's dead.

 

He feels so horribly guilty that Allura is hurt, but he knows it's self-centered to think she only did it because of him. She put an end to Haggar for everyone in the universe, everyone she'd lost 10,000 years ago and those who need protection now, and he knows she'd do it again in a tick.

 

Shiro also feels guilt gnawing at him for the fact that they're traveling in the opposite direction of Earth, to Olkarion, for the sole purpose of performing surgery on him.

 

There has to be a better use of their time, he thinks, reaching the end of a hallway and turning, running smack into Keith.

 

Shiro gasps, completely startled out of his train of thought. Keith grabs him by the shoulders, his hands steadying the taller man as he tries to calm himself.

 

"Keith," Shiro says in an uneven voice. "I'm sorry, I was just —"

 

Keith smiles and tilts his head, strands of hair falling around his face from his ponytail. His newly — to Shiro — bulging biceps flex as he keeps Shiro from falling on his ass.

 

"Just what?"

 

Shiro gulps. There's no way Keith knows how completely adorable he looks, so Shiro tries to tamp down his never-ending crush.

 

"I was just… thinking,” Shiro hedges. “I wish we could just head for Earth. Wish we didn’t have to take a pit stop just for me.”

 

Keith presses his mouth into a straight line.

 

"I know it must be rough," Keith says lowly. "But look at it this way: There is nothing the rest of the paladins and I want more than to help you feel better, even if we have to crawl to the farthest edge of the damn universe to do it."

 

Keith's face reddens as he speaks, a passion that Shiro can't help but admire, even if he resents taking up everyone's time.

 

"Okay," he says lamely. "It does kind of help to think about it like that.”

 

Keith's hands rub at Shiro's shoulders equally, despite one being made of unyielding metal.

 

"That’s good," he says with a sincerity that burns in Shiro's chest. His answering smile wobbles a little.

 

Shiro isn't all right, but he can do this, for the other paladins. He can let them help him.

 

He reaches with his remaining hand to pat at Keith's, where it remains on his metal shoulder.

 

"So," Shiro says. "Were you looking for me, or were you just in the neighborhood?"

 

Keith starts, his violet eyes widening almost comically.

 

"Oh! Pidge and Hunk wanted to show you something."

 

Keith takes Shiro's hand and pulls him along the hallway, gentle but enthusiastic, like he's just as excited to see Shiro's reaction to whatever the yellow and green paladins have cooked up. Shiro’s hand tingles at the contact and he wonders if Keith touches anyone else so easily, so innocently.

 

Shiro wants to roll his eyes at himself. He's been on an emotional roller coaster since he woke up — nearly dead, then incandescent with glee any time Keith so much as glances at him. He hopes with more time back in the real world, he will settle down a little bit. In the meantime, if he grips Keith's hand a little too enthusiastically, who would really blame him?

 

Keith tugs him into a lab, where Pidge and Hunk are fidgeting while they wait.

 

"Do you want to see it? Do you want to see your new arm?" Pidge looks hopeful, her amber eyes shining.

 

Shiro tries to hide the way his stomach falls, pasting on a smile.

 

"Sure, Katie," he says, chuckling despite himself when she pulls a silly face at him for the fond way he uses her real name.

 

"We thought we'd show you the hologram specs before we show you the real thing, so you can get used to the idea," Hunk says. "I know you've been through a lot, so we want to take it as slow as you need."

 

Shiro nods along.

 

He's nervous with an edge of something else he can't identify yet, but he reminds himself that these people just saved his life, he regularly trusts them to work alongside him to pilot a giant cat robot, and they have his best interests in mind.

 

"I am a little anxious," he admits, a wry twist to his mouth. "But I promise I will tell you if anything gets to be too much for me."

 

“Thank you,” Pidge and Hunk say in eerie unison before breaking into nervous laughter.

 

“I think we’re a little nervous, too,” Pidge says, adjusting her glasses.

 

Hunk taps the control panel of the holographic interface to wake it up, then, like lifting a gauzy veil, pulls the specs up.

 

Shiro eyes the blueprints. It's certainly a little more benevolent-looking than the black-and-silver arm the Galra had outfitted him with: it's white, not unlike the paladin armor, and it has the same aqua glow as the Castleship.

 

Hunk and Pidge begin pointing out the details of the prosthetic: unlike his Galra arm, it will be removable; it’s also not weaponized. It’s somewhat stronger than a human arm, but no glowing laser beams.

 

The wave of relief crashing over Shiro takes him by surprise, and he finds a chair with less subtlety than he prefers.

 

“You okay?” Keith crouches down so he’s eye-to-eye with Shiro.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I just — I never really registered how much it weighed on me that my arm could be used as a weapon against the people I love at any moment. And now this one won’t be able to.”

 

“It also won’t have any of the data-storing capacity that the Galra arm did,” Pidge points out. “It’s strong, and the luxite is kind of magic, but it’s pretty much just an arm.”

 

“And it’s more balanced to be roughly the same weight as your flesh arm,” Hunk adds. “The Galra arm was way too heavy, my dude. How did you deal?”

 

Shiro grimaces in the guise of a smile. Keith eyes him with mild concern, but seems content to squat beside Shiro indefinitely.

 

“Eh, you know, I didn’t have a whole lot of choice in the matter. So, how is it exactly that you guys worked up all these plans, all these measurements?”

 

Pidge flushes, looking down at the hologram. Hunk's large hand pats her back, and Shiro gets the impression that whatever happened was unpleasant for everyone in the room. He feels the muscles along his spine tighten in preparation for what he’s about to hear.

 

Pidge moves her glasses to the top of her head, which makes her following eye contact feel raw and unguarded.

 

"Well, we did a lot of imaging while you were in the cryopod, but the truth is -" Pidge gulps, her eyes glistening. "I had the code and the specs from your arm for a long, long time. Just in case."

 

Shiro sits back, a little stunned. He still doesn’t remember much from the hours before the paladins had placed him in the cryopod, just flashes, but Keith had said Haggar triggered some kind of switch in him that make him attack Keith and the castle.

 

Shiro hates this, hates feeling like a traitor in his own skin. His Galra arm is gone, but he wishes he could smash it to pieces, burn it, anything to symbolize his disgust with what it represented.

 

He swallows back the bile rising in his throat and tries to focus on the present.

 

"Well. Thank goodness you were smart enough to do that," he says steadily. "You probably saved everyone."

 

Suddenly, Shiro has a lap full of sobbing Pidge.

 

"I'm so sorry you have to go through this, Shiro!" Her slight form shudders as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, and Shiro feels his nose burning with withheld tears as she falls apart. "I felt so, so guilty that I kept a copy of your arm's code and built counter code, and then I had to use it because that fucking - that horrible -"

 

Pidge can’t talk for crying. Shiro just keeps patting her back with his remaining arm, but he looks at Keith and Hunk a little helplessly.

 

Keith shrugs, looking uncomfortable with the emotional show, and reaches over to pat Pidge on the back as she sniffles and sobs.

 

Hunk is, predictably, affected by the sight of the green paladin losing control over her usually tightly-controlled emotions. He grips the edge of the hologram table, frozen, with tears filling his wide brown eyes.

 

Lance sticks his head in the door from the hallway. "What did you guys do to Pidge?!"

 

Pidge looks up, red-eyed, as Lance rushes over to comfort her.

 

"They didn't do anything," she chokes out. "It's just hard to talk about some of this."

 

Shiro feels chilled as Lance helps Pidge out of his embrace, the canned spaceship air hitting the spots on his shirt where Pidge's tears had fallen and turning them icy.

 

Belatedly, he stands and follows behind Lance as he helps Pidge out of the lab. Hunk snaps to action, rushing to Pidge's other side, almost trampling Keith and Shiro in his haste.

 

"Why don't you just take a break?" Lance says soothingly. "You don't have to process everything all at once. That goes for you double, Shiro."

 

He throws the comment over his shoulder almost accusingly.

 

"What did I do?" Shiro mutters.

 

Keith wraps a supportive arm around Shiro and glares daggers at Lance.

 

"You didn't do anything," he asserts.

 

Pidge tugs Lance into a hug-headlock.

 

“Make yourself useful and get me a water pack."

 

"Yup," Lance says cheerfully and disappears into the kitchen.

 

Shiro eyes Pidge.

 

"How did you just do that?"

 

"He likes to be helpful.”

 

She pulls her glasses back into place hastily over her tear-streaked cheeks.

 

Pidge pats herself down and finds a space handkerchief in her pocket, which she uses to roughly scrub her face until all the tears are gone. Her eyes and face haven't lost the indications of a crying jag, but she takes a few steady breaths and seems to be settling down. Shiro feels terrible that the Haggar-controlled him caused all this.

 

He tugs on his shirt collar uncomfortably and opens his mouth to apologize before Lance trots back from the kitchen with an armful of water packs and energy bars.

 

Keith and Hunk don't seem any less befuddled by the vision of a crying Pidge, and everyone takes a drink and snack with relief.

 

The reprieve lasts only a short time, because Lance has never been able to endure a silence.

 

"Soooo..." Lance drawls out around a mouthful of energy bar. "How are we feeling about the new arm design?"

 

Shiro twists his face into an approximation of a smile. "Fine."

 

"It's pretty snazzy-looking, right?" Lance swallows and elbows Shiro.

 

"Yeah, it's nice. It also hopefully won't be able to kill or injure my friends."

 

Shiro takes a sharp bite of his energy bar and uses chewing as an excuse to not talk anymore.

 

Pidge looks thoughtful.

 

"I mean, theoretically, it's as capable as your flesh hand of squeezing, hitting, or pinching, but yeah. No lasers, no secret surveillance capabilities."

 

She leans toward Shiro as she talks.

 

"You know we trust you though, right, Shiro?"

 

Shiro shrugs, his rictus smile decomposing on his face.

 

"I hope I deserve your trust," he says quietly. "I hope there isn't some sort of other bombshell hidden inside me."

 

"Well, we scanned you head to toe, and the only thing left is the camera in your eye," Hunk says.

 

"And of course we trust you, Shiro," Keith says fiercely. "YOU didn't do this, you are as much a victim of the Galra Empire as any of us."

 

Shiro feels somewhat heartened by the combination of scientific fact and emotional support the paladins are offering him.

 

"Okay," he says. "Thank you guys."

 

Shiro's heart jumps into his throat as Coran's voice comes over the loudspeaker.

 

"Attention, paladins! Please report to the bridge. The princess is waking up!"

 

The other Paladins exclaim excitedly and jump up to run to the bridge.

 

Shiro resists the urge to clutch at his chest like a bad actor in an infomercial. He stands up slower than the rest of the paladins, still grappling with the stress response he apparently has to the sound of voices over the loudspeaker, and Keith waits to make sure Shiro can do it on his own. He isn't obsequious, but he is vigilant about making sure Shiro doesn't need any help.

 

Shiro walks hurriedly toward the central hub of the Castleship.

 

When he and Keith arrive on the bridge, it’s to find Coran standing there alone.

 

“Well, what’s the news? When is Allura going to wake up?” Lance demands.

 

Coran holds his hands up placatingly.

 

“She should wake up any minute, everyone,” he says in a rush. “I didn’t want to overwhelm her with a hullabaloo as soon as she pops out of the healing pod.”

 

“Hah,” says Hunk. “Remember what happened last time?"

 

"Yeah, she put me in a headlock and insulted my ears." Lance rubs at the top of his ears self-consciously and slumps down in his seat.

 

Coran ignores his disgruntlement and continues.

 

"Yes, well, I thought I'd have you all go down there two or three at a time, so you don't trouble the princess with your tears and shouting."

 

Coran looks over his not-inconsiderable mustache at the five paladins, glowering as if they were unruly children just waiting to disobey him, instead of young adults working with him to defend the universe.

 

The communicator on Coran's wrist chirps and he glances down at the hologram projecting from it.

 

"Ah, she's awake and asking for Shiro," he crows. "I will accompany you and one other person down. Who wants to go?"

 

Lance starts to volunteer, but he's cowed by the look on Keith's face as he steps closer to Shiro's side.

 

"Oookay, I guess it's Keith!" Coran says. "Let's get down there, can't keep the princess waiting."

 

Shiro kind of loses a bit of time in the hallway, and the next thing he knows, he's walking into the room where the healing pods are stored, and Lotor is there.

 

His body tenses, drawing his spine rigid and arm clenched, but just as quick as the involuntary reaction is the realization that the man looks like shit.

 

His normally sleek white hair is pulled into a greasy, bedraggled bun at the nape of his neck and the rest of him is in a similar state of disarray.

 

But his smile is radiant and directed at the woman in his arms. Allura is looking up at him beatifically but her eyes shift to the three men in the doorway.

 

"Shiro, you're all right." Her relief shines from her face like a Renaissance-era depiction of a Christian saint.

 

He feels the intonation like a tug on his heart. Before Shiro can think twice, he finds himself at Allura's feet.

 

"I'm so glad you're a— you're okay," Shiro says.

 

Allura doesn't quite look recovered, he notices. She looks like the fight with Haggar took something out of her. Shiro doesn't exactly know the lifespan of Alteans, but he harbors a fear this battle may have taken a few years from Allura.

 

She lifts a shaky hand to pat Shiro's, where it's clutching at the bench she and Lotor sit upon.

 

"You look well." She glances up at Keith and Coran, who are frozen in the doorway. Keith looks supremely awkward as Coran clutches at him and sniffles shamelessly.

 

"Coran, please come here," Allura calls.

 

Shiro steps back as Coran strides to her side.

 

"Princess," he chokes out. "I'm so happy to see you awake. Are you hungry? Have you eaten? How can I help you?"

 

Coran stills as she pats his cheek tenderly.

 

"You wonderful man, don't worry about me. Lotor is taking good care of me. You just keep these paladins under control until I get back on my feet."

 

"As you wish, princess," Coran says. "Your father would be so proud of you."

 

Allura smiles and wipes a tear from her eye.

 

"And Keith, you're looking well, too," she says. She reaches her hand to him and he steps forward almost shyly.

 

"I'm so happy you're doing better," he says, ignoring Lotor and giving Allura a small smile. He freezes as she traces a finger over the new scar on his face.

 

"Oh, Keith. You're always caring for others, but who will care for you?" she whispers this, though her gaze lands on Shiro.

 

Shiro feels his face burn. She's not wrong, though it feels like a reproach. He decides to find out what happened to cause such a scar as soon as he can.

 

He looks at Lotor, who appears to be sturdy as marble despite his apparent exhaustion.

 

"Thank you for your dedication to the princess," Shiro says sincerely. "It's admirable."

 

Lotor nods, his regard falling upon the princess at his side. "None are more worthy of such." Allura's cheeks heat up and she smiles up at the half-Galra man. It's clear to Shiro  
that whatever happened while he was in the astral plane has bonded them together inseparably.

 

He's still not entirely sure how he feels about it, but the princess seems to have bestowed her trust upon him.

 

"Shiro, I am truly sorry for the role my mother has played in your troubles," Lotor says in his deep voice. "I promise to do whatever is within my power to undo her meddling."

 

The seconds accumulate as Shiro scrambles to formulate a response. He would have never expected such a declaration from the man.

 

"Thank you. I — I appreciate that."

 

Coran clears his throat.

 

"All right, let's have one of those Earth group hugs before I call the rest of the paladins in to cry all over you," he declares.

 

Allura opens her arms and Keith, Shiro and Coran embrace her solidly. Her arms feel thin, but nearly as strong as ever as they wrap around the three men, Shiro notices.

 

He hopes Allura will be able to regain her strength. He doesn't know how he'll forgive himself if the battle that set him free permanently injured Allura.

 

"All right, all right," Allura laughs breathlessly as the hug squishes her. Lotor's eye has begun twitching, as if the embrace has him imagining throwing the men across the room for daring to squeeze Allura too thoroughly. Shiro frees his hand from the tangle of arms and backs away, tugging on Keith's shirt to get him to follow.

 

The tall half-Galra relaxes perceptibly as the space between Allura and the others increases.

 

"We're happy to see you awake, Princess," Shiro says as he and Keith back out of the room. "We look forward to spending more time with you."

 

She grins a little at their behavior.

 

"Please feel free to send the other paladins in," Coran calls.

 

Keith and Shiro stick their heads in on the bridge to tell Lance, Pidge and Hunk they can go see Allura, and they are nearly trampled in the other paladins' enthusiasm to visit with the princess.

 

They grab plates of food leftover from Hunk's welcome back feast for Shiro and head to what Shiro has already begun to think of as "their" room.

 

As they finish up their food, chatting about the events of the day, Shiro steels himself to have one more uncomfortable conversation before he sleeps.

 

"Listen, Keith... I — I'm really sorry you were uncomfortable with the sleeping arrangements last night, and I wanted to see if you want this bed. I can sleep in your room, or get a cot like we talked about —"

 

Keith holds up a hand.

 

"I wasn't uncomfortable sleeping in the same bed as you. That was..." Keith's ears redden, which Shiro finds completely adorable. "That was fine. I just... ugh. I woke up with morning wood, okay? It was embarrassing and I didn't want to tell you at the time."

 

Shiro lifts a hand to cover his mouth, the relief coursing through him. He tries not to smile, even, but a few chuckles slip out.

 

Keith glares.

 

"Laugh it up," he mutters.

 

"Keith, no, I'm sorry. It's not — I had the same problem in the shower, okay? I'm touch starved and as soon as you started taking that damn cryopod suit off of me, I was in trouble."

 

Keith's eyes widen, and a smile spreads across his face.

 

"That does make me feel a bit better."

 

He picks at a thread on his pants as the moment expands, his smile slipping away, and Shiro feels the awkwardness blossom.

 

"So... will you bunk with me?" Shiro realizes in that moment, not only did he love snuggling up to Keith, he still desperately does not want to be alone. The thought of spending the night in a cold bunk with just his thoughts to keep him company sends his heart fluttering unpleasantly beneath his sternum. He places his hand to his chest, pressing firmly as if that will keep the organ from taking flight.

 

Keith tilts his head up toward him, Shiro's secret favorite smile curving his lips gently.

 

"Well, I can't let you be touch-starved." Keith begins gathering up their dishes, thoughtful. "After I drop these off, do you want to shower? Coran said we'll probably get to Olkarion sometime tomorrow. It might be better to grab a shower tonight."

 

"Sure!" Shiro clears his throat to help his voice come back down to its normal register. "D'you — do you mean, shower together?"

 

Keith pauses, hands full of dirty dishes, and quirks an eyebrow at Shiro.

 

"I mean, yeah, unless you don't want to. You don't have to, I just thought you might still want some help — with washing, I mean."

 

Shiro nods too quickly. "Oh, yes, you're right."

 

Keith nods back.

 

"I'm just gonna..." he jostles the dishes and heads out the door toward the mess.

 

Shiro flops onto the bed and lets his head hit the wall somewhat ungently.

 

So much has happened already in the days since he awoke from the astral realm. It's overwhelming. Shiro feels like it's been nonstop feelings and hugs and debriefings. These quiet moments just between him and Keith have been the best part of his life since Haggar's spell on him was broken.

 

He just hopes he doesn't ruin everything with these irrepressible feelings.  
Shiro sighs and then rolls his eyes at himself. He tries to shake off the effects of the swirling emotions of desire, friendship, dare he think — love — before Keith returns. He needs to keep it together so Keith can make his own choices without being influenced by him.

 

He knows he has had a fair bit of influence over the young man through the years. Shiro saw potential in Keith, and he also saw himself in the scrappy youth who loved to fly, and was good at it, too.

 

But in this, he feels Keith will have to make his own choice. And Shiro fears if he admits how deep his feelings run, he will either scare Keith away, ruining the most important relationship in his life — of his life — or somehow coerce the man into a romantic relationship he doesn't really want. It doesn't make a lot of sense, he knows, but it's a fear he holds deeply.

 

The door slides open and Keith strides back in.

 

"Hey, are you all right?" He's at Shiro's side in an instant, easing him upright. Touching him so gently, like he’d never done before Shiro awoke.

 

"I'm fine, Keith." Shiro smiles wryly at him. "I was just ruminating on the last 36 hours and how much has happened."

 

Keith gnaws on his lower lip, revealing his concern despite Shiro's reassurances.

 

"It has been a lot..." he trails off as Shiro scoots to the edge of the bed and reaches behind his back to yank his T-shirt off with his left arm. Shiro glances up at him after he pulls the neckline of the shirt over his head and raises an eyebrow, holding back a grin.

 

"Something on my face?"

 

Keith's ears are red again. Shiro wishes he didn't find it so adorable.

 

"No, uh.." Keith turns away and pulls off his own T-shirt. "You just seem to be adapting to having one arm pretty well already."

 

"Oh!" Shiro rubs a hand through his hair. "That's - that's good, I guess."

 

Shiro lowers his hand to his waistline and pauses, wondering if he should wait or go somewhere else to undress now that he can.

 

"Do you need some help with - with that? With your pants?" Shiro notices Keith's gaze is on his toned midsection. He sucks in a breath despite himself, his belly curving in as he tries to unfasten the button one-handed.

 

Shiro thinks he probably would have gotten it, but Keith steps toe-to-toe with him and helps him with the button. Shiro can feel his breath, he’s so close. Keith’s eyes travel from the hair below Shiro's belly button, up his chest, finally landing on Shiro's face.

 

Keith's gaze is hooded as he unzips the jeans one agonizing click at a time. He helps Shiro ease the pants over his hips and ass wordlessly.

 

Shiro steps out of his jeans and drapes them over the bed, dithering over them a little as Keith steps away and strips down, tossing his clothes in a pile on a desk.

 

"I'm going to go start the water," he calls out over his shoulder, padding into the bathroom utterly naked.

 

Shiro doesn't know what to do with this ache, this flickering desire to close the distance between them. If he isn't reading this wrong, Shiro thinks Keith might just want him, too.

 

It's a thrilling thought, but Shiro doesn't want to start anything without making sure it's clear what everyone wants.

 

Shiro thinks he will take every scrap the man throws his way, though he knows he wants it all. He wants to touch, to kiss, to lick — yes, all of that. Of course. Keith has always been appealing — when they first met, Shiro thought he was cute. His pure talent as a pilot was fascinating.

 

But something happened while Shiro was gone, partly to his feelings and party to Keith. He’s not the scrappy teen he was when Shiro met him anymore. He’s not just a cute kid, but a certified gorgeous man on top of being an amazing pilot and Shiro's closest friend.

 

Shiro aches for the physical, a new and startling feeling. And Keith’s new habit of touching him only amplifies his longing. But he wants everything with Keith, whether that means exploring the universe or a white picket fence back on Earth.

 

"Shiro? Are you coming?"

 

Shiro shakes his head, dislodging his pondering.

 

"Yeah, be right there."

 

He strips off his underwear and walks into the bathroom, trying not to freak out or pop a boner. He eases the door closed to keep the steam from escaping. The shower door is open and Keith is already in the stall, his body obscured by the frosted door.

 

Shiro breathes in slowly, so deeply he hears his back crack as his lungs fill. He can do this, he can shower with Keith without destroying their friendship. Keith is just doing this to help him until he gets a new arm, most likely.

 

Bracing himself on the door, he steps over the separator and nearly swallows his tongue.

 

Keith has two hands in his hair, rinsing the soap out. His body hasn't gotten any less gorgeous in the last day, from his widow's peak to his delicately arching feet.

 

Shiro clears his throat. "Hey."

 

Keith blinks his eyes open, a blush beginning at his chest and rising over his neck, reddening his ears.

 

"Hi, Takashi."

 

Shiro smiles despite the roiling tension of the situation.

 

"I can't tell you how good it is to hear you say that," he admits. "I never thought I'd hear your voice again."

 

Keith's responding smile is blinding, if a little wobbly.

 

“My life would be a lot different without you in it, and I aim to keep you around, okay?"

 

Shiro closes his eyes. It's all too much. He rubs a wet hand over his face, trying to keep it together.

 

"I guess it would be kind of weird to hug you right now," Shiro says wryly.

 

Keith laughs, the sound tinkling like music amid the steady roar of the falling water.

 

"I mean, I guess," he says. "You have to switch spots with me anyhow."

 

Keith approaches slowly, looking up from under his coal-dark eyelashes. He opens his arms and, with painstaking tenderness, wraps them around Shiro's chest, pressing his warm, wet upper body to Shiro's, tucking his soaking head under Shiro's chin.

 

Shiro squeezes the man to him, wishing he had both arms available for the task. They stay that way for long, glorious moments, just breathing together, skin against skin as the steam from the shower rises through the air.

 

"Ok, switch me," Keith breathes into Shiro's neck, causing him to shiver. They clumsily rotate, their knees knocking together, and Shiro can't help but laugh breathlessly.

 

He turns around and ducks his head under the water, flipping his forelock back and forth and splashing Keith in the face. Keith squawks indignantly and Shiro laughs again, giddy.

 

Shiro lets the water sluice over his shoulders, chest and farther down. He rubs his hand over his chest and abdomen, feeling the sparse, wiry hair crackle under his touch.

 

Showering is still a riot of sensory delights after Shiro's months of imprisonment, but the strongest sensation he feels right now is that of being observed.

 

Thoughtful, he arches his back under the stream, stretching languorously. For a moment, he feels ridiculous, almost ashamed. But then he hears a small noise from Keith and gives into what he really wants to do, turning around to gaze at the other man.

 

Keith is biting his lip, eyes dark. His gaze remains steadfast on Shiro’s; it’s almost intimidating.

 

"Do you want some help washing?"

 

Shiro finds he can't quite make words happen, so he nods in lieu of actually speaking.

 

Keith again ignores the washcloth, pumping soap into his hands, and Shiro wonders idly why it is in the shower if Keith doesn't use it to wash.

 

He stops caring as Keith's strong hands spread the foamy substance over his shoulders and chest, sliding delicately over the stiff nubs of his nipples. Shiro sucks in a shuddering breath as Keith's fingers splay over his abdomen, rubbing ever downward, stopping under his belly button. Keith spreads the soap outwards from the sharp vee of Shiro's lower abs and obliques to the softer skin of his hips.

 

He stops to get more soap, which he scrubs up Shiro's sides and back, moving more and more into his space. He scratches into Shiro's scalp gently, and Shiro can't help but tilt his head back in bliss at the ridiculously pleasant sensation. A low noise escapes from his throat despite his best efforts.

 

Embarrassed, he glances down at Keith's face, only to see Keith's eyes dark and wide, dart to his groin, where Shiro is showing clear enjoyment of the tender treatment.

 

When Keith speaks again, his voice has lowered into a velvety growl that sends goosebumps along Shiro's neck and arm.

 

"Do you want some help with that?" He gestures at Shiro's crotch, where his cock arches over his lower stomach.

 

Shiro groans helplessly.

 

"Keith, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want that, but I think we need to talk about it before we do anything physical," Shiro explains, hating himself for every second Keith's hand isn't touching him.

 

Keith scratches at his own happy trail, leading to his thickening dick. Shiro finds the sight mouthwatering, he realizes.

 

Keith looks thoughtful, if intent.

 

"Look, you know I'm bad at talking about feelings," he says sheepishly. "But I'll try. So. I said I want to keep you in my life, and I want to be in yours. But right now... I want to make you feel good."

 

He gazes at Shiro, his otherworldly violet eyes sincere.

 

"Will you let me help you feel good, Takashi?"

 

Shiro's breath shudders from him.

 

"Keith. Fuck. Yes.”

 

Shiro reaches across the shallow shower stall and laces his pruny fingers with Keith's.

 

"Can I please kiss you?" Shiro hates the tremor in his voice, but this is among the most important yes or no questions he's ever asked, he thinks, before Keith's hand closes around his and tugs him closer.

 

Keith's other hand curves around the back of his neck and pulls him down. Keith's lips touch his, tentatively first and then more firmly. Glossy with water from the shower, their lips slide against each other deliciously. Shiro gasps, and then Keith is licking into his mouth, tasting of toothpaste and desire.

* * *

Shiro tugs his hand free from Keith's and then snakes his arm around Keith's narrow waist, tugging them together from chest to thigh.

 

Keith groans at the feeling of Shiro's cock against his. He sneaks his free hand between them, gripping both of their erections loosely as they kiss and grind against each other.

 

Shiro feels his dick jump at the feeling of Keith surrounding him, the tantalizing sensation of his thick cock dragging against his and the divine tug of his fingers over both of them.

 

"Keith! Jesus fuck," Shiro pants into Keith's burning hot mouth. Shiro bites at his lip, tugging it into his mouth and savoring the moan Keith utters.

 

Shiro can't get enough of this. He's had daydreams in this vein more than once, but his imagination was never as good or as hot as the scene playing out before him.

 

He scrubs his hand up and down Keith's sodden back, feeling the muscles flex under his searching fingers.

 

“Takashi, god,” Keith mumbles, arching under the touch.

 

Finally he gives into to every one of his long-repressed desires and slips his hand down, down, cupping Keith's gorgeous, round ass and squeezing, causing Keith to thrust into his own hand, his foreskin rubbing and catching on Shiro's cock, the friction of soft skin over that hardness driving him mad.

 

Shiro’s cock jumps again in Keith’s grip, precome dribbling from his slit. He feels the devastating pleasure building in his gut.

 

"Keith," he gasps. "I'm not going to last, it's so good, ah!"

 

Keith nudges his nose under Shiro's jaw, biting and sucking at the scarred skin of his neck as he ruts and pulls against Shiro's dick relentlessly.

 

"Come for me, I wanna see you come, wanted it for so long," Keith chants. "Baby, come on, come for me."

 

Shiro feels the pleasure crest like a wave as the words swirl around them. He cries out as he comes, an impressive amount of white spurting out of him and over Keith's still-moving knuckles.

 

Keith bites down on his collarbone, almost hard enough to hurt, as he follows Shiro over the edge.

 

"Fuck!" he gasps as Shiro lazily ruts into his hand, head drooping onto his shoulder. Keith rubs at their dicks until Shiro's overwhelmed and a whine slips out of his mouth, sending a blush across his scarred nose.

 

Keith finally releases them, shoving his hands under the spray to rinse it off and then grabbing Shiro's face with both hands.

 

He kisses Shiro with fervor despite their releases moments ago and all Shiro seems to be able to do is clutch at him helplessly and return the tender grazes of his lips. This is far more than Shiro ever imagined he could have with Keith. He’s nearly overcome by it.

 

Shiro nudges at his head until Keith gets the point and lets him nip and kiss along his jaw until he can reach his earlobe. He rolls the sensitive flesh between his lips, nipping lightly, his breath tickling along Keith's ear.

 

"Takashi, you're going to get me going again," Keith breathes.

 

"I'm sorry,” Shiro says, mostly unrepentant. "I just wanted to do this for so, so long."

 

Keith groans again, the sound ripping from him.

 

"Me too. Let's get out of the shower, though, my fingers are all wrinkly."

 

Shiro pretends to grumble, but he shuts off the water and waits as Keith clambers shakily into the bathroom proper.

 

Keith hands him a towel, not unlike he did the last time they showered together, and Shiro reflects on how much has changed in such a short amount of time. It almost frightens him, but at the same time, he'd take the flurry of change over the interminable torture of being stuck in the astral plane any day.

 

Shiro rubs himself down as well as he can, but Keith takes over with a determined look in his eye. The tender treatment from Keith makes Shiro feel more bashful than the moments of passion in the shower did, but he tries not to turn his eyes away from Keith's steady gaze.

 

"Let's go to bed," Keith says in a voice that has Shiro thinking round two might really happen already.

 

"Lead the way."

 

Shiro grins at him, relishing the opportunity to stare at Keith's ass unabashedly.

 

By the time they both pull on sleep clothes, Shiro's body is betraying him, his eyes blinking and drooping as he attempts to gaze into Keith's eyes.

 

"We should talk more about this tomorrow, Keith," Shiro slurs as he entwines his limbs around the half-Galra man.

 

Keith pulls the blankets into place around them.

 

"We will," he soothes.

 

Shiro tilts his chin up and kisses Keith's lips, filled with joy that he can do such a thing freely after hopelessly wanting for so long.

 

Keith hums into his mouth, a smile curving his lips.

 

His arms tighten around Shiro, filling him with contentment.

 

"Get some sleep," he whispers.

 

Shiro lets his eyes drop closed and complies.  
.

 

Shiro wakes with a start, the Castleship's lights set to emulate the late morning, as someone pounds on the door. His heart is instantly walloping against his ribs at the urgent sound.

 

His legs tangle in the blankets as he tries to get out of bed, but Keith beats him to it.

 

"What; Jesus, what?" Keith growls, stalking to the door and smacking the hand reader so it will open.

 

Lance, Pidge and Hunk stand in the doorway, eyes like saucers as they stare at Keith, hair askew and arms crossed over his bare chest, then Shiro, still trying fruitlessly to free himself from the goddamn sheet tangle.

 

Keith waves his hands at the gobsmacked trio. "What?!"

 

Lance's jaw slams shut with a painful-sounding clack.

 

"We just wanted to let you guys know, we're about a varga from Olkarion."

 

Shiro freezes in the snarl of blankets.

 

"I thought we had another day before we got there," he utters, ice filling his veins.

 

Pidge looks excited.

 

"We made really good time for not being able to open a wormhole," she enthuses. "Every day we can shave off the trip is another day closer to getting to Earth!"

 

Shiro gulps as he realizes he's probably mere vargas from going under the knife of a team of alien doctors.

 

"That's great," he says weakly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All in all, things could be better for Keith, he grimly thinks to himself. 
> 
> He had awoken in Shiro's arms only to be gawked at by the three musketeers, who promptly sucked all the air out of the room when they announced the Castleship was almost to Olkarion. Shiro had instantly begun freaking out, pacing and fidgeting and looking ill. 
> 
> After plying Shiro with food — first the most nutritious options, then Hunk's cute little space pastries — and having little luck, Keith sighs softly to himself in defeat. He's doing a crap job of taking care of Shiro right now and he doesn't know how to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kind of starts with Shiro having another panic attack, but it's from Keith's perspective. The part of the story that contains Shiro having a panic attack starts with "Shiro nods, looking preoccupied," and ends with "After about 20 minutes of this, Lance finishes as he started, urging the two men to roll slowly until they're sitting up again."
> 
> As always, my love and devotion to Andy, my artist for this bang, and my cadre of betas: Alex, Aria, Nova and Rue.

All in all, things could be better for Keith, he grimly thinks to himself. 

 

He had awoken in Shiro's arms only to be gawked at by the three musketeers, who promptly sucked all the air out of the room when they announced the Castleship was almost to Olkarion. Shiro had instantly begun freaking out, pacing and fidgeting and looking ill. 

 

After plying Shiro with food — first the most nutritious options, then Hunk's cute little space pastries — and having little luck, Keith sighs softly to himself in defeat. He's doing a crap job of taking care of Shiro right now and he doesn't know how to fix it. 

 

"I'm gonna hit the head, I'll be right back." 

 

Shiro nods, looking preoccupied.

 

Keith does actually need to piss, but he'd be lying if he said the bathroom trip wasn't also an attempt on his part to regroup a little. He had been able to help Shiro drag himself out of the panic attack after he lost control of his jet pack, but he doesn't know what to do with this quieter discontent consuming Shiro as the surgery draws ever closer. 

 

Keith lets his head rest against the wall of the bathroom for a few moments. He hears the pneumatic hiss of the bedroom door opening and closing and wonders what's going on. 

 

He washes up quickly and comes back into the bedroom to find... nothing. The sound of the door was apparently Shiro leaving. 

 

Keith sighs again. 

 

He checks the bridge, the mess and Pidge's lab area, finding a flurry of activity as the paladins, Allura, Coran and Lotor prepare to make land on Olkarion. The Olkari have been prepared for the fact that Lotor is aboard, but they're still requiring some fairly stringent security measures to permit the half-Galra man to set foot on the planet. Personally, Keith doesn't blame them. 

 

The prince has only just joined the Voltron coalition after, what, 10,000 decaphoebs of doing whatever pleases him? Yeah, Keith will gladly stay on team skeptic rather than be stabbed in the back, he thinks. 

 

No one has seen Shiro, and Keith feels the muscles in his shoulders tensing with each passing moment he can't find the man. It shouldn't be possible to do a runner on a spaceship. What the hell. 

 

Just as Keith is starting his second lap of the well-traveled areas of the ship, his communicator beeps and he receives a message from Lance, telling him Shiro is in a nearby lounge area and Keith needs to get there ASAP. 

 

Keith jogs until he gets there, skidding through the doorway. Shiro is perched on a couch unsteadily, looking like he will take flight again at any moment. 

 

"What's going on?" Keith rasps, a little out of breath himself as he strides into the room.

 

"Freakin' out," Shiro forces out around gasps.

 

"I thought we'd do some deep breathing while we wait for everyone to get ready to land," Lance says in a soothing voice.

 

Keith carefully does not make a face. Lance is all about this yoga shit; Keith would rather train or spar until he can't keep his eyes open. He's never been able to get into Lance's spiritual stretching mumbo jumbo, but he has utterly failed at helping Shiro to relax ahead of his surgery so far today, so they might as well try. 

 

Wordlessly, Keith settles into a seated position, what his kindergarten teacher called "criss-cross applesauce," at Lance's feet. 

 

Ignoring Lance's eyebrows, which have climbed into his hairline at Keith's yielding behavior, Keith offers a hand to a queasy-looking Shiro. 

 

When Shiro takes his hand, Keith can feel the tremors shuddering through the man's body. He stifles an abrupt surge of fury rising in him at what Haggar and her druids have put Shiro through. Shiro has never deserved any of this, this literal torture, body and soul, inflicted upon him for Haggar's entertainment and idle curiosity. Keith bites the inside of his cheek until it hurts and tries to look encouraging as Shiro settles beside him on the floor of the lounge. 

 

Lance steps down from the couch, stretching his long legs between them to settle into an open spot on the floor. Shiro and Keith turn around awkwardly, scooting their butts on the floor. 

 

"Ok. This is a guided meditation to help you be calm and relaxed. I've done this before a lot of times to help with mine and Hunk's anxiety." Lance speaks with confidence, not the obnoxious swagger Keith had associated with Lance during their time at the garrison and the early months of Voltron. 

 

"We're going to start by slowly lowering ourselves to the floor, vertebrae by vertebrae, until we're laying all the way down on the ground." 

 

Keith eyes Shiro as he follows Lance's instructions. He can see the muscles in his belly flex and shudder as he tries to uncurl his body until it's prone. Keith wants very much to hug Shiro, but he fears being restrained in any way is the last thing the man needs. 

 

Lance has them lay their hands on their stomachs, resting them lightly, in order to feel the way their breath causes the surface to rise and fall. He then walks them through a process of slowly breathing in, filling their lungs all the way, holding their breath, then releasing it more slowly than Keith thinks he's ever exhaled in his life. Along the way, he has them clench and relax various body parts, starting with their faces and going all the way down to their toes. 

 

Keith feels ridiculous, but he keeps his mouth shut, because he can tell it's helping to calm Shiro from his panic attack. He follows Lance's instructions dutifully, feeling his muscles relax, but his attention is still pinpointed on the man next to him and the symptoms of anxiety and panic, or lack thereof, he's showing. 

 

After about 20 minutes of this, Lance finishes as he started, urging the two men to roll slowly until they're sitting up again. 

 

They sit in silence for a moment and then Lance starts to get up. 

 

"I'm going to do what my yoga teacher always did and let you have a minute to sit, breathe, and feel ready to come back to the day," Lance says a little sheepishly. "I know it sounds dumb, but taking that time and being intentional about it really can help."

 

He pauses in the doorway, gripping the jamb with one hand. 

 

"Welp, I'm gonna go get ready for getting off this ship for a while."

 

"Thank you, Lance," Shiro says, gratitude and sincerity filling his tone. "I feel... a lot better." 

 

"Thanks, Lance," Keith echoes. 

 

If Shiro feels better, he feels better. Even if he wasn't able to make it happen this time. Keith's priority since Shiro went into the cryopod has been to help him — first to help undo Haggar's spell stranding him in the astral realm, then to be beside him as he coalesces. 

 

There is a small part of him that's jealous he didn't have the skills to help Shiro calm down from this panic attack, but Keith can admit to himself that being soothing has never been his specialty. 

 

It had really been a fluke that he'd been able to talk Shiro through the first panic attack, but Keith had vague memories of a course he'd taken at the behest of one foster parent or another, something like mental health first aid, ways to help people with mental illness until they can get to professionals. 

 

In the moment, he'd been able to recall the way to count through breaths and to keep talking, describing mundane things to help ground Shiro. 

 

Really, he's thankful Lance had the tools to help today. He'd felt powerless in the face of Shiro's deep and ongoing discomfort. 

 

Keith realizes he's been staring at Shiro while musing. He feels the blush rising up his face and grimaces. 

 

"Sorry," Keith says. "I guess I was just woolgathering." 

 

Shiro gives him half a smile, the unsettled expression still beautiful on his face. 

 

"It's no problem. Would you come with me to pack our things?"

 

Keith stands and holds out his hand, which Shiro clasps firmly despite rising easily on his own. Keith notes with satisfaction that the tremor is gone from his grip, at least for now. 

 

"Always," he says.  
.

 

Getting everyone and everything off the Castleship turns out to be quite an ordeal, considering the Olkari want to put Lotor through some pretty stringent security procedures, and he stubbornly refuses to leave the princess's side. 

 

She finally sighs at his refined growl and places a delicate hand on his forearm. 

 

"Lotor. Go with them. I'll be fine, I promise." 

 

Lotor bows to her, then makes steely eye contact with the rest of the inhabitants of the Castleship. 

 

"If any harm comes to her, I shall hold you all personally responsible."

 

"Okay, buddy," Hunk says. "We'll take good care of her, but you know, threatening everyone may not be the best way to make your security check go quickly." 

 

Lotor simply turns with a huff and follows the Olkari security force, who are several heads shorter than him. Two of the soldiers follow behind him as well. 

 

With the argumentative half-Altean out of the way, Ryner steps forward to embrace Pidge and each of the paladins in turn. 

 

"We are so glad to have you here, my friends," she says in her serene voice. "And Shiro, we are truly pleased to be able to help you."

 

Keith watches Shiro's Adam's apple bob as he swallows tightly before responding. 

 

"I am and always will be grateful to you and the Olkari for any help you can provide in removing the marks of Haggar's control over me."

 

A hush falls over them as the group absorbs his words. Keith can't help but put a hand on Shiro's shoulder, in what he hopes is a comforting manner. Shiro glances over at him with a small smile on his face. 

 

"But, I have to admit, I'm very nervous about the procedure, so I'd love to get going," Shiro adds.

 

"Of course, Black Paladin," Ryner says, inclining her head. "Please follow me to your quarters."

 

Finding their quarters means going up, up, up. 

 

Keith had frankly forgotten about the skyscraper-like trees the Olkari used to make their homes and places of work. He wouldn't have expected modern-looking interiors based on the magical glowing trees, but nonetheless, their rooms feature all the technology and comforts of an advanced society. 

 

Pidge is in heaven, excitedly discussing the tech, the upcoming procedure and a lot of other things Keith can't follow as Ryner and her cadre of fellow Olkari escort them to the high-rise... tree... where they're staying. 

 

Keith isn't paying a lot of attention to the discussion going on as they wander through the curving halls of the dwelling. He can't really tell whether it's a hotel, a mansion, or some other kind of accommodation, and he supposes it doesn't really matter right now. 

 

Most of Keith's focus is on the man at his left side. Shiro seems to be holding up better than he was this morning, but he is still tense and quieter than usual. He looks pensively around the tree-hotel as rooms are doled out by the Olkari. Some part of Keith longs to be touching Shiro, to comfort him as best he knows how. He isn’t really sure what that’s about, but Shiro doesn’t seem to mind right now. 

 

Everyone receives single rooms, but when it comes time to assign a room to Shiro, the concierge-type person opens the door to reveal a bigger room, with an enormous bed, and gives a little bow. 

 

"For the black paladin and his right hand," the Olkari says somewhat obsequiously. 

 

Keith glances between Shiro and the group of Olkari. 

 

He tries to fight down a blush he feels creeping up his neck. 

 

"Is that me, then?" 

 

The alien bows again. 

 

"Yes, this suite is meant for the black paladin and his ezkontide," they elaborate. 

 

Keith doesn't know what the word means, but he'd rather not argue when he prefers to sleep in the same bed as Shiro anyhow. The sheer size of the thing means they won't even have to touch if Shiro doesn't want to. 

 

Keith always wants to touch Shiro, to be touched by him, even if it's a simple hand on his shoulder or at his elbow. He squashes the line of thought before his blush can worsen. 

 

"Thank you," he says shortly, giving a brief bow to the Olkari, then entering the room. 

 

Shiro follows behind, giving a more cordial salutation to the alien. 

 

Keith busies himself with unpacking their meager collection of belongings into the generous closet space. 

 

When he turns around, Shiro stands at the window, looking out into the perpetual sunset under the gigantic forest's canopy. The fingers of his left hand grip at the window sill. 

 

Keith walks up to him and realizes he's not really looking out, just staring sightlessly. 

 

"Shiro." 

 

Keith touches his forearm and Shiro's head jerks ever so slightly to look down at him. 

 

"It's going to be okay," Keith murmurs. "Do you want to try to rest a while?"

 

Shiro smiles wryly. 

 

"I don't know if I can." 

 

Keith curls his hand around Shiro's elbow, tugging gently and walking backward towards the bed. 

 

"Will you try?" Keith glances up from under his eyelashes. "For me?"

 

He feels his ears reddening, but he tries to keep his gaze steady on Shiro. 

 

Shiro grins, a little goofy, and pulls Keith into a sitting position on the bed. 

 

"I can try." He reaches over and kisses Keith's cheek. "For you."

 

Keith leads Shiro to lie down on the expansive bed, laying facing him. He brushes Shiro's forelock out of his face, thinking he'll want a haircut soon. 

 

Shiro shifts, gazing at Keith. 

 

He traces a finger along Keith's scar, causing the man to tremble. 

 

"When will you tell me what happened?"

 

Keith closes his eyes. 

 

"I don't want you to be upset."

 

"Pretty much the only time I'm not upset since I woke up is when I'm in your arms, so we've got a good start," Shiro says with a small laugh. 

 

Keith doesn't laugh. 

 

He reaches between them and takes Shiro's hand, holding it to his own heart. Shiro can feel the strong heartbeat beneath his hand. Keith hopes this will remind him of his current health and vitality at the moment. 

 

He stalls for so long Shiro starts to get a little antsy. He rubs his feet together as he waits for Keith to be ready to talk. 

 

"Shiro... when I tried to tranquilize you, Haggar was watching. She triggered something within you, something from your arm, and you were out of control. You started attacking me in the training room."

 

"I'm so sorry, Keith." 

 

Keith gives a little sigh. "I accept your apology. Though, again, it wasn't you, it wasn't your fault." 

 

Shiro wraps his arm around Keith and tugs him into a tight embrace. 

 

"It was still by my hand, and I'll never stop being remorseful for that." 

 

Keith just snuggles into his space, rubbing his hand up and down Shiro's back in a slow, comforting glide. 

 

Shiro seems to be able to doze, if briefly. He's not quite awake when Keith's communicator beeps, but as the subtle noise reaches his ears, Keith sees his lashes flutter as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes. 

 

Keith sits up, his mouth a straight line. 

 

"They're ready for you." 

 

.

 

Shiro doesn't remember the trip to the medical facility. After Keith woke him, tersely saying it was time for surgery prep, Shiro floated along, Keith at his elbow. He expects to be falling to pieces, like he'd been earlier. But for whatever reason, his reaction goes the complete opposite direction. 

 

It seems to unnerve Keith deeply. Shiro makes a mental note to apologize later. 

 

Some part of his brain decides he is better off not thinking for a while and he zones out until he realizes he's staring in the faces of the surgery team he'd met via satellite message just vargas ago. 

 

Their calm mien isn't altered by Shiro being in their presence; rather, he finds he is oddly soothed by them. 

 

"Hello, Shiro," says the leader of the surgeons, whose name is something like Azier, Shiro recalls. "We are happy you are here and we're looking forward to helping you." 

 

Shiro bows in the approximate style of the hotelier, hoping it's the Olkari equivalent of a handshake, and introduces himself to doctors Azier, Ilari, Domiku and Itzaso, the lanky, smoothly moving team who will remove the scraps of Galra metal from his arm and the tiny camera that's apparently embedded in his right eye, the device that helped Haggar to spy on Voltron and its paladins for more than a decaphoeb. The four doctors seem to be linked psychically somehow. They move with an eerie unison, anticipating each other's actions. 

 

Shiro supposes it's a good thing, since they'll be able to communicate rather quickly while working on him. 

 

They go over the procedure again, this time with Shiro, Keith and the whole team listening in. Shiro's a little touched the group decided to come along and wait for him during the surgery. He figured they had other things to do during this distraction from the mission. 

 

Ilari explains the Olkari version of anesthesia is a concoction he'll drink, which will put him under for approximately 3 vargas, according to the calculations of the doctors, Pidge and Hunk, based on Shiro's height, weight and human body chemistry, which is slightly different than that of an Olkari. They'll operate on his arm first, then his eye. The actual surgery is expected to be a fairly short process, no longer than a varga or two, the doctors explain. 

 

He'll be placed in a healing pod for a few vargas to help speed along the healing, especially of his eye. Shiro had initially fought this, but the team explained he won't know the difference, and it will make his recovery from the surgeries significantly shorter. 

 

Even so, he'll have to wear glasses for weeks — movements, Shiro corrects himself in his head. He hasn't asked to see the spectacles he'll be saddled with, but he hopes they're a little cooler than the bulky, indestructible corrective lenses given to Galaxy Garrison recruits during boot camp. 

 

He remembers the way the squarish glasses did gangly GIs no favors whatsoever during the high-intensity weeks of training. 

 

Shiro realizes he's woolgathering again and the team are looking at him expectantly. 

 

"Sorry, could you say that one more time?" He glances guiltily from face to face. 

 

"We're ready if you are, Shiro," Ilari says kindly.

 

Shiro shares a look with Keith, who's keeping steady at his left side. 

 

"See you on the other side," Shiro says with more boldness than he feels. 

 

Keith steps forward and wraps him in a tender embrace, shamelessly kissing his cheek in front of the surgery team and other paladins. 

 

"It will be fine," he vows. 

 

Shiro ducks down to press his forehead to Keith's, his hand snug around the back of Keith's head. 

 

He closes his eyes and ignores the crowd for a moment, just breathing in Keith for a few precious heartbeats. 

 

"K, here we go." 

 

All but one of the surgeons, Azier, leave to prepare the surgery theater. Azier takes Shiro to a private sort of dressing room and gives him a gown. Shiro supposes the unflattering, breezy surgical gown is a universal thing; it's comforting, in a way. 

 

Azier instructs him to leave the gown off of his right shoulder, and when he's ready, to drink the concoction and then immediately come through the next door, where they'll attach the usual monitors and medical ephemera used to keep him stable during the procedures. 

 

Shiro nods his thanks and the doctor drifts through the door to the surgical theater. 

 

Shiro feels faintly sick, which is better than this morning, when he actually retched into the corner of the observation deck of the Castleship, where he'd escaped to freak out. 

 

He shrugs out of his clothing, folding it neatly on a bench, and tugs on the hideous robe. Like most of the decor of the medical center, the robe is light green. It's dyed in a small leaf pattern with a beige background; Shiro thinks it makes his skin look unwell, but he supposes that's not the point of the garment. 

 

He situates the sleeve below his right armpit so the stump of his arm is sticking out starkly. It's ugly to him as it is, but he can only imagine what it will look like, scarred and pared down, once the remnants of the metal are gone. He isn't looking forward to dealing with it during the healing process. 

 

He sighs to himself, taking half a moment to miss the limb he was born with. 

 

Moment over, Shiro trods barefoot over to the table where his anesthesia shake awaits. He sniffs it cautiously, but it only smells faintly minty. 

 

His concerns of icky-tasting medicine somewhat assuaged, he takes a sip. His overwhelming impression is green. Everything green — it tastes like mint, tart apple, spinach, pine, avocado, grass, just an explosion of green flavors. It's not the worst thing, but it's not the best thing either, and he chugs it down. 

 

He burps quietly, wiping a drop of the concoction from his lips, and heads through the door. 

 

He has a moment of confusion as he examines the surgical suite. It looks more or less like every examination room he's ever seen, whether on earth or in the depths of a Galra warship. There's a flat, uncomfortable-looking bed, surrounded by lights and equipment. 

 

One of the doctors, Domiku, welcomes him and encourages him to have a seat on the table, easing him into a reclining position. As he places electrodes and other monitoring equipment on Shiro's head and chest, he begins to feel a soft tug, like falling asleep on a lazy Sunday when there's nothing much else to do. 

 

A prick of pain goes almost entirely unnoticed, the doctors slipping an IV in the vein on the back of Shiro's hand, as he drifts into easy unconsciousness. 

 

For some time, an amount Shiro is unable to quantify, he feels nothing except the contentment of a really good nap. 

 

It's a nice break. A part of him wishes the astral realm had been more like this. Then again, if he'd been comfortable there, he might have been less likely to want to come back to the relative discomforts of owning and operating a body. 

 

Just as he's wondering how it is he can be both asleep but not, he slips into a dream. 

 

Keith walked toward him in the training deck with a smile on his face. The smile sat wrong on his mouth, however, and Shiro couldn't figure out what was bothering the man. Keith was dressed in his Blade of Marmora suit, all broad shoulders and slim hips in the skintight bodysuit. Shiro couldn't help but appreciate the view. 

 

"Shiro, I'm sorry I've been gone so long. I've missed you." 

 

Keith stood at parade rest in front of him, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. 

 

Shiro smiled as the words reached his ears. 

 

"I'm glad to have you back, Keith," he said. His Galra hand landed on Keith's shoulder, resting like it belonged there. "I know the missions you do with the Blade are important, but we miss you, too. We'd love to have you around more to help with our missions as well." 

 

Keith nodded. 

 

"That's — that's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually," he said. "Now that I've gotten to know Krolia and spent some more time with the Blade, I've realized how important it is to me to be a part of Voltron. I'm hoping you all can use my help again."

 

Shiro beamed. 

 

"Of course," he said. "You know I've always thought you belonged in the black lion." 

 

Keith's face fell. He stepped back, Shiro's hand falling from his shoulder. 

 

"I'm glad to come back, but you know I hate it when you talk like that," Keith mutters. "You're not going anywhere." 

 

Shiro crossed his arms for something to do with his hands. 

 

He felt a headache start, the nagging, neverending headache he'd been dealing with since he escaped from the Galra the last time. 

 

Keith didn't let up. 

 

"It worries me when you talk like that," he admitted. "I know you were sick, before Kerberos, but your muscles aren't bothering you anymore, are they?"

 

Shiro frowned. 

 

"No, now that you mention it, they aren't, ever since I lost my arm. Hmm." 

 

Keith's mouth twists in concern. 

 

"Are you feeling all right? I guess I just have a guilty conscience since I've been gone so much." 

 

Shiro rubbed at the place on his forehead that always hurts, now. 

 

"I have been getting headaches a lot," he admitted. "I just try to ignore them, they come and go."

 

Keith stepped up to him again, brow furrowed in worry, but something else there, too. Shiro can't figure it out.

 

"You should get checked out, Shiro," he said quietly. "I don't think it's a good idea to ignore a persistent issue like that." 

 

Shiro sighed. 

 

"Maybe you're right," he admitted.

 

Keith looked up at him, his soft gaze confusing Shiro. 

 

"Shiro. Can I — Can I give you a hug?"

 

His confusion abated, Shiro smiled at the shorter man. 

 

"Of course, Keith, you don't have to ask for a hug from me." 

 

As Keith reached up to embrace him, Shiro saw two things simultaneously: one, Keith's face crumpled in pain, and two, in a reflection of the glass windows of the training deck, some sort of syringe clutched in the hand headed for his neck. 

 

The moment Shiro's eyes recorded the two images, blinding pain filled his head and he stepped away, clutching his head and falling to his knees. 

 

A voice, gravelly and deep, filled every crevice in his skull. 

 

"He is betraying you!" 

 

'No,' Shiro thought in response, but it was as if the thought were swatted out of the ether like a bothersome fly. 

 

"Shiro, are you all right?!" Keith was hiding the vial in his hand, but his other hand was held out in evident concern for his friend. 

 

Shiro groaned as the hiss filled his head again. 

 

"He knows too much, he must be destroyed."

 

"No!" This time, Shiro spoke the word aloud, but it was to no avail.

 

Something controlled his every move as if he were a marionette on invisible strings. He snapped into a defensive pose, a reddish plasma sword flowing with a dangerous buzz from the gauntlet of his Galra arm. 

 

Keith's eyes widened in fear. 

 

"Shiro, it's gonna be okay," he said, holding out both of his hands, the needle gone away somewhere. "Please put the sword down. I want to help you." 

 

In response, the being controlling Shiro's body held it higher. 

 

It was as if Shiro wasn't really there. He was merely observing what his body was doing, unable to resist in any way. 

 

Keith flexed his hand, his Blade of Marmora knife extending into its sword form as Shiro sprinted toward him. He blocked hit after hit from the glowing sword, sparks flying, until Shiro's attacks forced him into the wall of the training deck. 

 

He ducked just as Shiro's sword arced again, carving a swath through the wall of the deck. Wires sparked within the guts of the wall, but they hardly distracted the never-ending assault of strikes from Shiro's sword. 

 

Keith parried blow after blow from the glowing sword, panting and wide-eyed. It wasn't only sword hits Shiro doled out, however — Shiro punched, slapped and kicked as often as he slashed at the other man. Keith was soon sporting bruises and gashes from Shiro's merciless onslaught, blood dripping from a cut on the soft skin under his eye. 

 

As much as Shiro attacked, Keith only defended himself, never moving to harm the man who was doing his best to murder him. 

 

And he kept talking throughout the ordeal. 

 

"Shiro, I know you're in there," he panted. "You made a promise once. You told me you'd never give up on me." 

 

The emotion filled his voice, his words as sincere as the sorrowful expression on his face. 

 

"And I should have abandoned you, just like your parents did!" Shiro shouted, the words feeding into him from some external source. "They saw that you were broken. Worthless. I should have seen it, too." 

 

These were words that would have destroyed Keith before he'd had the opportunity to learn more about himself with the Blade of Marmora, and get to know his mother. 

 

As it was, Keith's gaze remained steady on Shiro as the man pinned him against a smoking support structure in the training deck. 

 

"I'm not going anywhere until you let me help you." Keith's jaw was set in utter determination. 

 

Shiro pushed against his luxite sword with the plasma weapon, forcing Keith toward the floor. 

 

Keith's arms shook with the effort of fighting off the other man. 

 

"Shiro, please." Keith's voice cracked with emotion and strain. "You're my brother." 

 

The words had little effect on the being masquerading as Shiro. Keith's cheek burned and crackled as Shiro's weapon neared its mark.

 

Keith gave one last push, one last gasp of honesty. 

 

"I love you!" 

 

Shiro's eyes widened in shock and the mask slipped, enough to give Keith an opening to parry his sword and swing, severing his Galra arm above the elbow. 

 

Shiro fell to his knees, a scream of agony torn from his lips as the arm sparked and smoked.

 

His face cleared of the veil of wrath and disdain, Shiro whispered brokenly, "Keith." 

 

"Shiro? Are you with me?" 

 

Shiro's eyes roamed over the injuries bleeding and swelling on Keith's skin. He looked to the training deck, which was utterly destroyed by the side effects of their battle. 

 

"What have I done?"

 

As Shiro collapsed on the floor, alarms began blaring throughout the Castleship, warning of an imminent attack. Shiro watched through slitted eyes, motionless, as Keith jabbed Shiro's neck with the needle. 

 

Shiro's vision faded to black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have to tell you somethin', though."
> 
> He yawns.
> 
> "What is it?" Keith waits patiently at his side. 
> 
> "I 'membered, you love me. An' I needed to say: me too. I love you, Keef, okay?"
> 
> Shiro tries to clutch at Keith's shirt and misses by a fair bit. Keith grabs his hand and holds onto it, eyes wide. 
> 
> "Okay. All right, Shiro, you love me." Keith smiles softly. "Message received."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw my opportunity to write anesthesia-loopy Shiro and I took it, all right?
> 
> This chapter deals with a lot of therapy-type stuff and some rough feelings, but no panic attacks this time. 
> 
> Listen to the playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/124632312/playlist/0nbwCd1oUsOgHH3CoKs80P?si=DlHpWUoARKi_0W-k6U9qZQ
> 
> As always, my love to Andy, Aria, Alex, Nova and Rue.

Shiro is floating, and nothing hurts. 

 

For a moment, he's worried he's trapped in the astral plane again. He tries to move his hands and feet, and feels the surface of the hospital bed under all but his right hand. He starts to panic for a moment. Then he remembers he doesn't currently have a right hand.

 

He tries to open his eyes; they feel gummy and gritty, and when he does achieve the act, his vision is blurry in his right eye as he tries to focus on the softly-lit ceiling above him. 

 

He hasn't before considered how the absence of pain can be a sensation in itself, but he certainly feels it now. It was only a short few days of wakefulness, but it had been marked by discomfort of one kind or another. At the moment, Shiro merely feels a bit fuzzy, but overall quite pleasant. It's disconcerting; he thinks he understands how people get hooked on painkillers, if they feel like this all the time. 

 

Shiro remains still as he takes stock, remembering he was being operated on, not actually fighting with Keith like he dreamed. He does realize that 'dream' was a memory, however. He needs to apologize to Keith.

 

He tries to talk, and it takes him a few tries to form his dry lips around the words. 

 

"Keef?"

 

"Oh, you're awake," murmurs Ilari. "We will call your ezkontide in at once."

 

Shiro squints up at the doctor, a wide-eyed Olkari he reads as female, but with other species, he finds it's best to speak in neutral terms or inquire of their pronouns, because the universe seems to provide infinite diversity in genders and gender presentations. 

 

"I don' know what that word is, Doct'r Ilari," Shiro admits. "Keef is my... I love 'im." 

 

"It is the Olkari word for our spouse, our mate; our beloved. Is it not an accurate term for the relationship between you and the red paladin?"

 

Shiro wiggles his head back and forth in an equivocal motion on the paltry cushion of the hospital room pillow, belatedly realizing that particular movement of body language may not translate to the Olkari. 

 

"I'd like 'im to be mine," he says. "Think it's a li'l' early to call 'im my ezk.. my b'loved. I do love 'im, and he loves me... but I gotta tell 'im. Is Keef here?"

 

Ilari smiles, her bright eyes lighting up. 

 

"He's on his way."

 

Shiro settles into his hospital bed, feeling dangerously comfortable. He drowses until he hears the sound of Keith's footsteps. Is it weird he knows what Keith's footfalls sound like? Oh well, he thinks. 

 

He opens his eyes and tries to sit up, but thinks better of it when the world begins spinning on its axis. 

 

"Keith." 

 

Shiro feels his face split into a wide smile at the (blurry) sight of the half-Galra man. 

 

"Hey, Shiro," Keith murmurs. "How are you feeling?"

 

Shiro _giggles._

 

"I feel great," he confides. "I have to tell you somethin', though."

 

He yawns as the medicine tries to lure him back to sleep. 

 

"What is it?" Keith waits patiently at his side. 

 

"I 'membered, you love me. An' I needed to say: me too. I love you, Keef, okay?"

 

Shiro tries to clutch at Keith's shirt and misses by a fair bit. Keith grabs his hand and holds onto it, eyes wide. 

 

"Okay. All right, Shiro, you love me." Keith smiles softly. "Message received."

 

Shiro gasps. He clings tightly to Keith's hands, trying to keep him from moving away.

 

"An' there's another thing," Shiro says muzzily. "I know you're gonna say s'not my fault, but I'm *sorry,* Keef, so sorry for hurtin' you. I said such bad things to you."

 

Shiro's eyes well up with tears as he gazes up at Keith, who is biting his bottom lip. Shiro can't tell if he's going to laugh or cry. It's probably because his vision is blurry from the combination of surgery and tears. 

 

"Takashi," Keith whispers. "I'll never blame you for any of that. I'm just so glad I have you back." 

 

Shiro tugs on Keith's hands until the man gets his point and hops up on the hospital bed. 

 

With tender movements, avoiding jostling Shiro's arm or head, Keith arranges himself on the cot-like bed, placing his hands on Shiro's chest, feeling his heartbeat through the ugly hospital gown. 

 

Shiro settles into the bed, his chin tucked over the top of Keith's head. 

 

"So you remember everything, then?" Keith says into his collarbone. 

 

"Mmm... I 'member everything about the fight," Shiro says, drowsier by the minute. The sweet brush of Keith's breath along Shiro's neck soothes him further still. 

 

Keith's lips brush along the junction of his neck and shoulder as he gets comfortable. 

 

"I meant it," he says. "I love you, Shiro. I'll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe."

 

Shiro smiles into his hair. 

 

"Love you, too. You're my esskontee."

 

"Your what?" 

 

Shiro begins to snore softly.

 

.

 

Shiro's team of doctors are pleased with how he is holding up after the procedures. They fit him with slim black glasses that look surprisingly good in the mirror, not at all like the clunky, dorky glasses Shiro'd feared. 

 

He thinks about asking where they'd procured fairly stylish human glasses frames, but he recalls a proverb about gift horses and lets it be. 

 

He's kind of a mess, bloodshot eyes behind the glasses and atrophied flesh shoulder wrapped in bandages, but he's just him again. No Galra tech, no secret landmines. 

 

Shiro finds he can't stop smiling about it. He feels lighter, physically and mentally, without the druid's accessories burrowed into his skin. 

 

The other paladins notice his disposition. 

 

"Feeling good, man?" Hunk says with a careful pat to Shiro's non-bandaged shoulder. 

 

Shiro beams at the engineer as he heads out from their de facto headquarters. 

 

"I really am, thanks, Hunk."

 

It's Shiro's second day of recovery, and he's meeting with the Olkari team to talk about his progress. As pleasant as it's been to rest in the Olkari hotel suite, Shiro's itchy to get on the road. 

 

Since they've just been doing checkups, the whole team hasn't been present for Shiro's visits to the medical center, but they're all there today. Shiro feels a moment of trepidation at the sight of all four Olkari surgeons, but the relaxed smiles on their insect-like faces put him at ease. 

 

Ilari seems to be taking on the role the leader, or the spokesperson today, and they beam at Shiro as he lets himself into the office of the medical center. 

 

"You are healing very well, Shiro," Ilari exclaims as they change the bandages. "That varga in the healing pod was helpful, I believe."

 

Shiro doesn't remember; he was still unconscious from the powerful anesthetic when they popped him in the healing pod, thankfully. 

 

"I'm glad," he says sincerely. He feels a little foolish for panicking so badly about going back in the healing pod, but there’s nothing he can do about that now. 

 

Ilari explains he will need to wear the glasses for another movement, probably — an amount of time roughly equivalent to a week on Earth. His arm will require daily bandage changes for probably twice that amount of time as the stump heals from the removal of all that imbedded Galra metal. 

 

Shiro feels a little sick at the sight of the mangled remains of his arm, red and angry around the incisions. Soon enough, Hunk and Pidge will fit him for their replacement prosthetic, and then he won't have to look at the lumpy scar tissue too much every day, he thinks to himself. 

 

He's used to most of his scars, but this is new. It will take him some time. 

 

Ilari seems to sense his unease. 

 

"Shiro, we wanted to talk to you about something. We have helped you in this past few days with your physical injuries, but we believe we can do more. As I'm sure you know, traumatic situations can have lasting effects not only on your body, but your mind and spirit as well. We would like to offer some tools for helping manage your mental trauma, including video sessions where you may visit with myself or another and talk through your progress using those tools."

 

Shiro taps a mindless pattern on his leg. He didn't expect this line of conversation at all, and he's not sure how he feels about it. 

 

"May I have some time to think about it?"

 

Ilari inclines their head in a nod. 

 

"I'd like to continue to help you, Shiro. Please let me know your decision before you leave for Earth." 

 

Shiro returns to their Olkari base of operations and gathers the group together. While he's honestly uncomfortable about the topic of mental health, he knows it's probably a good idea, not only for him but for the rest of the occupants of the Castleship as well. 

 

They sit around a conference room table not out of place in any earth hotel, except for the softly glowing accents. 

 

"Thanks for joining me, everyone, I know you probably have other things to do before we leave," Shiro begins. 

 

"It's no problem!" Lance says, feet on the table and hands behind his head. 

 

Shiro flashes a smile at him, imagining he's enjoying a break from the castle cleaning and maintenance Coran has been putting him through during their short stop on Olkarion. 

 

Hunk and Pidge like to think Lance is lazy, but the truth is he works just as hard as them, just on tasks they don't consider as important. At least, they used to think that way, Shiro corrects himself, remembering how Pidge showed her appreciation for Lance's efforts earlier. 

 

He keeps forgetting how much he missed while he was elsewhere. 

 

Shiro realizes he's woolgathering when Pidge delicately clears her throat. 

 

"Oh — sorry," Shiro says in a rush. "So, the surgery team, they said I'm healed enough to leave."

 

The room explodes with a barrage of congratulations and Shiro finds himself swallowed up in a group hug, which he returns gratefully.

 

"That's not all," Shiro says, laughter in his voice. "The team, they offered to keep helping me through video counseling while we are traveling to Earth, and I suppose even after that. I think we all should consider some counseling sessions. We've all been through things and seen things people our age shouldn't have to see or do."

 

He looks around the group, seeing more reluctance than he thought he might. 

 

"You don't have to, of course, but I think it might do us all some good to talk things through with the Olkari — they are professional and very calming. Ilari, my main doctor, they said it's basically just giving us tools to manage our mental health."

 

Keith crosses his arms. 

 

"I don't know. I don't think I need to lie down on a couch and ... talk about my feelings or whatever." 

 

Shiro leans back in his seat a little, stalling for a moment to compose his thoughts. 

 

Before he can counter Keith's statement, Lance speaks up. 

 

"Well, I'm in. I think it's a great idea!"

 

Pidge pats Lance on the back. 

 

"You do have a lot of feelings, buddy." 

 

Lance looks like he can't decide whether to be offended by that or not, but shrugs it off. 

 

"You're not wrong," he concedes. "I think we should all give it a try, at least. The worst thing that could happen is you don't like it and you have to tell the nice doctors you don't want their help anymore."

 

Hunk scoffs.

 

"The worst thing that could happen is the broadcasts or recordings get into the wrong hands and then our enemies use our vulnerabilities against us!"

 

Shiro puts his hand up to stop everyone from getting any more worked up.

 

"I'm more than happy for you to set this up in the most secure way possible, if you're willing to take part with me. I know it's uncomfortable to talk about, heck, I feel pretty uncomfortable right now, but I know I have some stuff to work through and I don't want it to stop me from protecting you or the universe." 

 

Shiro makes eye contact with Keith, who’s gazing at him steadily. Shiro feels his ears redden, and his eyes land on the red scar on Keith’s cheek. He looks down at the table. 

 

Allura stifles a giggle. 

 

Shiro looks up at her, surprised, and feels his face begin to burn. 

 

"So. Um. What do you all think?" 

 

Pidge flings her hand in the air. 

 

"Let's do it! ...With a secure channel!"

 

Shiro laughs at her half-joking enthusiasm.

 

"Thanks, Pidge. Well, you don't all have to speak up in front of everyone, but please let me know your decision before we leave so I can let Ilari know." 

 

He bows out and heads for his and Keith's suite, feeling drained from the constant roller coaster of news and celebrations and debates. He needs some time, some quiet, to think. 

 

Just a few days have passed since Shiro had woken up from the Olkari drugs, loopy and lovesick. His feelings for Keith haven't changed, but something has. 

 

In a matter of days, which pass strangely on Olkari with the impression of constant twilight, Shiro has pivoted from having trouble not touching Keith to feeling unworthy to be in the same room as his best friend. Every time he looks at the scar slashing across Keith's cheek, his stomach roils with guilt for the harm his hands have done. 

 

Shiro doesn't think he deserves to touch Keith ever again after the way he hurt him. Now that he remembers, now that he knows just how cruel he was with Haggar pulling his strings, he is filled with a self-loathing that rivals his shame at the slaughter of the other gladiators. 

 

That contempt for himself is only compounded by the fact that he feels worse about hurting Keith than the murder of all the others combined. That can't be right, can it? Something's wrong with his head. He hopes talking with Ilari or the other doctors will help him. Almost simultaneously, he fears he's beyond help; he's a broken puppet cast aside by its owner. 

 

Shiro is sinking into a truly foul thought spiral, staring at the ceiling of the carved-out hotel room through the thick frames of his temporary glasses, when Keith quietly slips through the door.

 

He doesn't speak right away, moving silently toward Shiro and the bed. He stops in his tracks when Shiro starts to sit up.

 

"Oh, I thought you were asleep," Keith says in a subdued voice. 

 

Shiro wraps his arm around his knees, tucking himself into a miserable little ball. 

 

He waits longer than is polite to respond, his eyes on his bare feet. 

 

"No. I'm awake." 

 

Keith cautiously sits down on the edge of the expansive bed. He puts a hand on one of Shiro's bare feet, his fingers warm and calloused against the delicate skin at the top of his foot. 

 

"Is... are you all right?" 

 

Shiro stares at Keith's hand on his foot. He shakes his head painfully slow, his jaw clenched tight against the emotions fighting to pour out of him. 

 

He breathes through his nose, remembering Lance's calming technique. It doesn't help the curdled feeling in his chest, but it does help him enough to be able to respond. 

 

"I'm not. I'm having a hard time with the memory of our fight." 

 

Keith tenses. 

 

"How can I help?" 

 

Shiro shrugs, not letting go of his grip on himself. He's afraid if he lets himself go, lets himself try to explain, he'll hurt Keith even more. He feels frozen in his misery. 

 

"Can I hug you?" Keith waits. 

 

Shiro speaks into his knees. 

 

"I feel like I don't deserve to be hugged, especially by you," he says, looking at nothing. 

 

Keith doesn't seem to react. 

 

"May I hug you anyway?"

 

Shiro nods. 

 

Keith carefully wraps his arms around Shiro, arranging himself in a way that he can comfortably hold the larger man for a long time. 

 

He seems to choose his words with a great amount of consideration. 

 

"Shiro, I know it's hard to remember what happened when Haggar controlled you. But. You definitely deserve hugs. I think you deserve hugs more than a lot of people do."

 

He gently nudges Shiro's head with his own forehead, still holding on tightly. 

 

"And. I'll say this as many times as it takes for you to believe it, so much you get sick of it. None of this was your fault or your doing. You are forgiven."

 

Shiro nudges back, breathing out a sigh. 

 

"Thank you."

 

He still feels like Keith shouldn't want to touch him, but the hug does feel good, and he feels the strain of holding himself together release a little bit. 

 

"Do you want to try to sleep?" Keith murmurs.

 

Shiro mumbles assent and they tussle with the blankets until they're comfortably draped over both of them. 

 

Shiro loses track of the time and doesn't realize it when he's fallen asleep. 

 

He instantly recognizes the landscape of the dream, however; it's his fight with Keith in the training deck.

 

It plays out exactly the same as the first time he dreamed about it, but this time, the action takes a backseat to the hissed words inside his head. 

 

Haggar is giving terse instructions to Shiro as they embrace. 

 

"Your connection to the red paladin is deep, deeper than the others." 

 

Her gravelly voice reverberates off the insides of his skull. 

 

"You know his weaknesses. Use them to distract him and lay the fatal blow." 

 

Shiro hears the words hurled from his mouth like a TV blaring from someone else's hotel room. 

 

"And I should have abandoned you, just like your parents did! They saw that you were broken. Worthless. I should have seen it, too." 

 

"Yes," Haggar hisses in response to the vitriol pouring from him. 

 

Shiro — real Shiro, being forced to dream about the darkest moment of his life again — can't stand to hear another word of this. 

 

"Stop!" he gasps. 

 

He doesn't know how to snap himself out of this, it's like he's watching it happen, not actually present. 

 

"Stop it!" The words rip from him, making his throat ache. 

 

"Shiro?"

 

He gasps and awakens in Keith's arms, his lungs burning and face wet.

 

"Fuck," he breathes. "Fuck!"

 

"You're all right," Keith says firmly. "You are safe, I am safe, we are on Olkarion, and Haggar is dead." 

 

Shiro sobs into Keith's chest, clutching the man as tightly as possible. 

 

He can't catch his breath; he just keeps gasping for air and holds on to Keith for dear life. 

 

"I hate this," Shiro grits out. "I hate what I've done. I hate that I — I can't stop reliving it." 

 

Keith just holds him, stroking his hair and rocking him gently until he calms. 

 

"Shiro, I know this sucks right now, but it's going to get better, and I'm going to be here for you." Keith wipes at his tear-streaked cheeks. 

 

Shiro tries to breathe and believe him. 

 

.

 

The next few days revolve around finding and packing enough supplies for the long, slow journey to Earth, which is expected to take nearly six months as long as Allura remains unable to create a wormhole. 

 

Shiro fears she will try to do so before she is able and will hurt herself worse, but there's not a lot he alone can do to forestall that. 

 

Everyone else is in a flurry of activity, loading the Castleship with supplies and making arrangements. Hunk and Pidge have been working with Ilari and Ryner to set up a super-secure channel that will allow them to communicate with one another without anyone being able to eavesdrop. 

 

The paladins are coddling Shiro, not letting him do much in the way of helping, so he gives up and talks Ilari into starting his first counseling session before the journey to earth starts again. 

 

He doesn't have any idea where to begin. 

 

Does he start with the fact that he was trapped in a pocket dimension devised by an evil witch? What about the year spent murdering monstrous beasts and piteous wretches alike in the Galra's gladiator ring? Does he start at the beginning, the father he never knew and the mother who abandoned him to his grandparents?

 

What about his intense and confusing feelings for Keith, the fact that they had a passionate moment, promised to discuss it more, and never did? What about the way Keith seems fiercely protective of him, which he’d never done before?

 

Ilari leads him through some paperwork with the same calm assurance they had when talking him through the surgery plan. It's surreal that bureaucracy seems to exist in all advanced enough societies throughout the galaxy. 

 

Ilari encourages him to talk about how he's been coping in the time since awakening from his imprisonment. 

 

Shiro taps on his leg with his left hand as he considers. 

 

"I seem to seesaw between panic attacks and manic glee at the simplest sensations," he explains. "I am scared of being alone, I'm scared to fall asleep because I will dream about being in the astral realm or the time I fought Keith."

 

Ilari bobs their head, wordlessly encouraging him to continue speaking. Their amphibian-like fingers tap stickily over a tablet as they listen. 

 

Shiro tells them about the fight triggered by Haggar and his memories of it, which have been flooding back since the surgery. 

 

He explains his feelings of not being worthy of Keith's unwavering loyalty, friendship and even, it seems, love. 

 

Shiro jumps from topic to topic, remembering things as he speaks. He remembers the panicked reaction he had to the sound of Coran speaking over the intercom, which he'd thought was an alarm. He tells Ilari about the flashback that caused him to almost crash into the wall of the lion hangar. 

 

He talks about how scared he is that Haggar or her acolytes will find a way to use him again; how angry he is that he was targeted to begin with. 

 

Before he knows it, it's been nearly two hours. He looks up in shock as Ilari gently sets their tablet down on the desk. 

 

"Thank you for sharing this with me, Shiro," Ilari says. "This information will help me to work up a plan for tools and interventions to help you with your trauma responses."

 

Ilari encourages him to come back the next day. While the doctors are plenty busy with the occupants of their own planet, who have begun the process of healing after a long Galra occupation, they have taken a special interest in helping the paladins of Voltron to heal as well. 

 

Shiro thanks the doctor and slips back to the room in the tree hotel. The hours of talking drained him an incredible amount, and he settles into the mattress, falling into a   
dreamless sleep.

 

He wakes hours later when Keith slips into the room, wincing as he sees Shiro blinking the sleep from his eyes. 

 

“Hey, I wondered where you were,” Keith says in a soft voice. 

 

“I had my first counseling session with Ilari, and then I came back here and passed out,” Shiro says, yawning and stretching. 

 

Keith sits down at Shiro’s bedside, placing a hand on his knee. 

 

“How was it?” He is making a valiant effort not to sound skeptical, which Shiro appreciates. He knows Keith's history, and he knows with Keith having spent time in the foster system, that he may not have much experience with mental health treatment. He might not have the best associations with doctors trying to understand why he's such a "discipline case."

 

With that in mind, Shiro speaks honestly but optimistically, saying while it was tiring, it was cathartic to just talk about everything, no matter how negative or dark or troubling. 

 

"Ilari doesn't judge, they just... listen," Shiro says. "It's kind of nice."

 

He's going back tomorrow, he says, and they're going to start with some of the techniques Ilari thinks will help him manage his trauma reactions to things like alarms. 

 

Keith looks grudgingly impressed. 

 

"I'm glad this is helping you," he says.

 

"I think it will help all of us," Shiro responds. "It can't hurt to try."

 

.

 

Despite himself, Shiro is nervous the next day as he returns to Ilari's office. 

 

He knows whatever the doctor is going to suggest can't be that off the wall, but he can't seem to shake the low-grade anxiety about the whole ordeal. 

 

He knocks on a desk as he enters the office. Ilari glides in ethereally, bowing their head slightly in greeting to the paladin. 

 

That reminds Shiro. 

 

"Hello, Ilari. I've been meaning to ask, what are the pronouns you use?"

 

The Olkari physician looks curious. 

 

"I apologize, you will have to clarify. Are you asking my gender?"

 

Shiro flushes a little. 

 

"I'm sorry if that's — not done here, I just wasn't sure how you identify and I wanted to be sure not to misgender you. I know, since we are different species from different planets, that our notions of gender may be quite different." 

 

Shiro fears he may have put his foot in his mouth in the attempt to be sensitive, but Ilari doesn't appear offended. 

 

"Well, there are three main biological sexes in Olkari, but it can get more complicated than that depending on the individual," she explains. "You may use the 'she' or 'they' pronouns when referring to me."

 

"Okay," Shiro says, relieved he didn't offend the doctor. "I use he or him."

 

"Wonderful," they say, appearing to be sincere. "I have reviewed our session from yesterday and I believe I have some techniques to assist you in managing your trauma responses." 

 

Ilari explains that coping with the stress reactions caused by trauma will help Shiro to feel more in control of his circumstances. 

 

"This is not just something you will do when you are having a stress reaction, Shiro. Coping is a way of life for people who have been through trauma." 

 

Shiro's heart sinks a little at hearing that. 

 

"So what kind of things are we talking about?" Shiro leans forward, anxious to hear the doctor's suggestions. 

 

"To start out, we'll focus on creating good habits. I know it can be hard to have a routine on a spaceship, but having a schedule that allows you to get enough sleep and exercise will go a long way." 

 

Shiro nods. Easier said than done, but he's not going to argue with everything. 

 

Ilari says relaxation techniques will also help Shiro. He brings up Lance's yoga breathing and Ilari beams, elated that Shiro is already familiar with some ways to work through a stress response. 

 

She asks whether he is spiritual or religious, and he pauses, unsure how to describe his beliefs. 

 

His grandparents were informal Shinto practitioners, who sometimes visited shrines but never officially became part of the religion. As a child, Shiro enjoyed the idea that everything had a spirit, or kami, but honestly, he hadn't taken much of the traditions with him to the Garrison. 

 

"Not... formally," he hedges. "I was raised in a practice, but I hadn't continued before I left Earth." 

 

Ilari explains that for people with a faith system, prayer can be a helpful part of relaxation, but for those who don't belong to a specific faith, there are plenty of other relaxation techniques. 

 

Shiro feels himself relax infinitesimally. For some reason, he'd thought the doctor was about to insist he become religious. Luckily, that isn't the case. He’s heard the phrase “no atheists in foxholes,” about how soldiers often turn to prayer in times of intense stress, and guesses that’s somewhat true for him. What he did while trapped in the astral realm could probably be called praying. But Shiro’s still hesitant about fitting any kind of formal religious practice in his life. 

 

Ilari walks him through some ways to deal with unwanted distressing memories, images or thoughts, like reminding himself they're not memories or talking to someone he trusts. 

 

"Do you have someone on the ship you can talk to about this?" Ilari pauses. "I know you mentioned caring for Keith a great deal, but sometimes it can be difficult to share those dark or distressing feelings with a significant other." 

 

Shiro examines the various items and plants on Ilari's desk, thinking about how to answer. 

 

"We are all pretty honest with each other, it kind of comes with the psychic lion thing, but Keith knows more than anyone else. I don't know if he'd call me his significant other, though."

 

Ilari looks politely interested. 

 

"Would you like him to be your significant other? I know you said as much while under the anesthesia, but such heavy medications can make people say silly things." 

 

"Yes," Shiro says quickly, surprising himself. "I don't think I deserve him, especially after I hurt him, but he is... very important — no, the most important — to me." 

 

Ilari notices that Shiro brings up the fight again and homes in on it. She asks him to talk about why he phrases it that way, that Shiro hurt Keith, when it was the witch, Haggar, controlling him. 

 

Shiro fiddles with the hem of his shirt, considering. He feels like he's doing more pausing than talking today, but they are getting to some pretty sensitive subjects for him. He supposes the doctor is used to it. 

 

"It may not have actually been me, hurting him, but it was my body, my sword, that burned that scar into his cheek," Shiro says in a voice choked with emotion. 

 

He swallows roughly. 

 

"Every time I look at that scar on the face of someone so important to me, I think about how the Galra emptied me out, just... used me over and over for whatever their whim was that day. 

 

“In the past, on earth, keys to lock and unlock doors were a physical item. Some keys were filed down, cut until they could be used to open many different locks.

 

"That's what they did to me. They cut me down until I could be used as they wished." 

 

Shiro wipes at his face almost angrily, clumsily nudging his glasses out of the way to clean up the tears dampening his cheeks. 

 

Ilari hands him a soft cloth, her face sympathetic. 

 

"What you just said is very interesting. If Keith doesn't feel that way about the scar, about associating with you, maybe there's a way we can help you to think of the mark a different way. When you have these negative thoughts about the scar, what are some positive things you could think about it instead?"

 

Shiro resists the urge to snort. How could he possibly have good feelings about hurting Keith, almost killing him?

 

But then he thinks about it some more. The moments just after Shiro caused the scar are when Keith told Shiro he loved him, breaking him out of the enchantment briefly and allowing Keith to interfere with the witch's plans. 

 

"I guess, I can think about how strong Keith is, not just physically, fighting me off, but how much he's grown since I first met him. The witch made me say some terrible things to him, and I think if this had happened even a year ago, he would have had a much worse reaction to the things she made me say." 

 

"That's a wonderful thing to think about," Ilari enthuses. "When you feel yourself sinking into that negative thought spiral, remind yourself of Keith's growth, his strength and his resilience. And remind yourself that while Haggar and the druids used you to do this, they will never be able to do that again."

 

Shiro gives a watery smile to the insect-like Olkari. 

 

"I think that will help.”


	6. Chapter 6

Within two days on Olkarion, the paladins and Coran have the Castleship ready to make the journey home. 

 

Keith watches as Shiro pulls each of the paladins aside, hoping to encourage them to take advantage of the Olkari doctors' generous offer to provide them counseling until, and even after they arrive on Earth, if they wish. 

 

Keith still feels apprehensive at best about discussing his feelings with the Olkari, doctors or no, but in the few short days of Shiro learning from his doctor on the planet, Keith sees him grow. No, he's not completely healed, but he starts to be able to handle the memories and the reactions to various events better. He advocates for himself. 

 

He asks for help, from Keith and from Coran, who helps him program his communicator to keep him on a schedule during the six-month voyage home. 

 

Keith tentatively thinks, if the counseling works, they will return to Earth a healthier group of people. They already possess unusual amounts of resilience and strength, it is kind of a job requirement, but really, it can't hurt to have some help dealing with the things they've been through and seen in the last few years in space. 

 

The kind, thankful Olkari saw them off with a cheering contingent and showers of magical sparks like they're on a cruise ship and not a castle built to defend a planet long lost to the vengeance of Zarkon. 

 

Keith isn't sure what they'll find when they return to their home planet, but he's hopeful it will be untouched by the Galra empire. 

 

He's the last of Castleship's inhabitants to schedule a time to talk with one of the doctors, but he finally gives in and sets up a time to (extremely securely, Pidge and Hunk assure him) video-chat with a pale blue Olkari doctor named Domiku. 

 

He ducks into his old room with a tablet he's been assured will not broadcast his therapy session to the entire universe. He cleans off a desk, mostly shoving clothes and gear out of sight of the tablet's camera, and taps at the device until he opens the connection. 

 

Domiku waves with one four-fingered hand and smiles encouragingly at Keith, who does his level best not to scowl. They're all doing this to be able to protect the universe, he reminds himself. 

 

"Hello, Keith. Thank you for agreeing to talk with me today," Domiku says in an even, soothing voice. 

 

"Um, you're welcome, thanks for working with all of us," Keith responds, resisting the urge to cross his arms. He grips the arms of the chair he's sitting in, instead. 

 

"It is our pleasure, and selfishly, it is in the universe's best interest for all of the paladins to be well," Domiku says with a twinkle in his blue-and-yellow eyes, which shimmer with iridescence like a dragonfly's wings. 

 

"That makes sense," Keith says with a bark of startled laughter. "So, what do you want me to talk about?"

 

Domiku raises his hands and waves them in a back-and-forth motion Keith interprets as 'it's up to you.'

 

"If you had come to us, instead of us coming to you, I'd ask why you sought counseling and ask you to describe your symptoms. But in this situation, with myself and the others seeking to assist you before you solicited our assistance, it's a little different. Why don't you just tell me what's been on your mind, and we can go from there?"

 

Keith examines what little he can see of Domiku's office while he thinks about it. 

 

"Mostly, I've been worrying about Shiro and making sure he's all right," Keith admits. 

 

Domiku nods, smiling. "That's not surprising, given what he's been through in recent days. What kinds of things worry you, and how do you handle it?"

 

"Well, as you know, his spirit was trapped in the astral realm through a spell put on him by Haggar. To end the spell, we had to kill her, but we couldn't let her know we were coming. By then, we knew she was using Shiro to spy on us."

 

Keith swallows, his throat clicking as he recalls the preparations. 

 

"We had to put him in a cryopod, and I'm afraid he spent more time trapped in the astral plane because of me. To make up for it, I made the other paladins promise to let me take the lead in taking care of him when he woke up."

 

Domiku taps a finger on his chin as he listens. 

 

"What made you think you were any more responsible than the other paladins for Shiro's well-being?"

 

Keith gives in to the urge to cross his arms. 

 

"I'm the one who tranquilized him and put him in the cryopod, and it was basically my idea," he says irritably. 

 

"And what kind of things did you do to care for him when he awoke?"

 

Keith's eyes go soft as he remembers Shiro waking up in his arms. Keith had been so scared it wasn’t going to work, that when Shiro was released from the cryogenic sleep, he’d wake up wrong. 

 

That was the first time Keith noticed just how good and right it felt for Shiro to be in his arms, protected by him. Keith felt it in his marrow; he is a defender of the universe, but what is the universe without Shiro in it?

 

"I helped him with whatever he needed. Food, showers, whatever. He was scared to be alone at first, so I slept — I stayed — with him at night."

 

Keith describes how Shiro's moods were erratic when he first awoke, from his joyous laughter in the shower to his panic attack after trying to help with the lions. 

 

"I shouldn't have let him try that so early, but he wanted to help so much." 

 

Domiku comments on Keith's dedication and asks what made their bond so strong. 

 

Keith gives him a short version of their history together, how Shiro had advocated for him to come to the Garrison and had continued to stick up for him, despite Keith's talent for getting in trouble. 

 

He tells Domiku how everything fell apart after Shiro and the Holts were declared dead, how he was expelled from the Garrison and found himself drawn to the desert hills. He recalls how Shiro kept sticking up for him as he learned more about himself and his Galra heritage. 

 

"He's done so much for me," Keith explains. "It's only fair that I take a turn."

 

"It is clear to me that you both care for each other deeply. In our society, we have a word for that — ezkontide. It means something like beloved, brother, friend, or lover."

 

Keith starts. 

 

"Yeah, he said something about that. After the surgery. He said he loved me and that I was his, however you say that. Ezkontide?"

 

"How did you feel when he said that?"

 

"Well, I had already told him I loved him during the fight we had before I put him in the cryopod."

 

Domiku nods, waiting for Keith to answer the question.

 

"How did it make me feel? Good, excited, a little scared, I guess? Shiro's really important to me and I don't want to screw anything up." 

 

"How would you 'screw things up?'"

 

Keith bites his lip. 

 

"You know, like if we get together, like a couple, and then what if he decides he doesn't like me like that anymore? I don't want our friendship to suffer." 

 

"And have you talked about this with him, aside from saying you loved each other during times of stress?"

 

"Um. A little."

 

Domiku hums. 

 

"It is clear to me that you care for him a great deal and this is weighing on your mind. I think you should try to make time to speak with him about your feelings, your hopes, and your concerns." 

 

Keith agrees and sets up another time to talk in a month, signing off and sitting at the desk, thoughtful. He didn't expect the conversation with the doctor to go the way it did, but he's been given a lot to think about, regardless.

 

It doesn't help Keith any with his feelings for Shiro that the Olkari have outfitted him with temporary glasses while his eye heals. It turns out Shiro in glasses is nearly irresistibly adorable, and Keith finds himself blushing more than once when addressed by Shiro for an innocuous question. 

 

When they're not eating, exercising or playing Coran's oddly time-consuming board game, they're reaching out to their allies in the resistance, in the Blade of Marmora and all the pockets of friendly citizens as they putter along through the stars. 

 

Allura has thrown herself into the role of diplomat, Keith guesses because she feels powerless without the ability to create a wormhole that would drop them off seconds from home. The other paladins and Coran keep trying to reassure her that her strength will return in time, but that trying too early to create a wormhole could only make her recovery longer and more difficult. 

 

Keith notices Shiro seems extra sympathetic to Allura's frustration, which only makes sense. It's been just about a movement, or roughly a week, and he's got another week of wearing the frustratingly sexy glasses. His recovery from the shrapnel recovery surgery will last a while longer before he can be fitted for the new prosthetic, in part because Shiro doesn't want to spend what he sees as unnecessary time in a healing pod. 

 

While Keith hates that Shiro is hurting, though the incisions have been healing well, he selfishly doesn't mind the extra time he spends tending to Shiro's bandages. The wounds, the arm doesn't bother him any; it's just a part of who Shiro is. And he gets to spend more time alone with Shiro. 

 

Keith should probably feel guilty for his possessiveness over Shiro while he's recovering from so much. But he doesn't, at all. 

 

He decides to ask Krolia for advice during their next video call. It's more than a little embarrassing to ask his mom for love advice, but he would rather die than ask anyone else on the Castleship. 

 

Krolia smiles fondly through the video chat, her latest ship's cockpit the backdrop. 

 

"I can tell you want to talk about something, spit it out," she says with her typical bluntness. 

 

Keith groans, his ears burning. 

 

"Fine. Okay. So." He glances at the door to his room, which he's closed and locked for privacy, just to check there's no one lurking outside to overhear. 

 

Krolia raises one sharp eyebrow, unimpressed. 

 

"Okay! So you know how I've been helping Shiro out a lot with, like, a lot of things. I keep having these feelings, like... like I have to be touching him and protecting him and making him feel happy and good."

 

Krolia covers her mouth, but Keith can still see her grin through the gaps of her fingers. 

 

"Mom." 

 

"I'm sorry, Keith; it's sweet. He's your mate." 

 

"My what now." 

 

"You have chosen your mate, whether you consciously did so or not. Galra mate for life, and when you choose a mate, you will have those kinds of protective feelings. It's a good thing!"

 

Keith can feel himself start to freak out. 

 

"What if he doesn't want to be my MATE?!"

 

"Keith. My son. Light of my life. First off, he'd be stupid not to." She holds up a hand as Keith starts to protest. "And second, from what you've told me, I really don't think that's going to be a problem. But you have to talk to him about this."

 

Keith huffs a sigh, fluttering the loose pieces of hair around his face. 

 

"That's what everyone keeps saying." 

 

"So get to it, my son. I'll meet you at the Milky Way."

 

Keith finds his chance when Coran announces he has an errand he needs someone to run. He's helping Pidge and Coran clean the teludav while Shiro has a session with his Olkari doc. 

 

Coran explains he has connections to a rebel-led planet, Orias, in the Qaymer system, which they're about to pass. He wants two of the paladins to take a lion and get some scaultrite lenses a rebel group has promised to the Voltron effort. 

 

"Shiro and I will go," Keith blurts. 

 

"Thank you, red paladin!" Coran beams. 

 

Pidge stifles a laugh and Keith levels a glare at her. 

 

"I never knew you were so passionate about scaultrite," she taunts. 

 

Keith smirks humorlessly at her. 

 

"Any scaultrite I can get without seeing the inside of a weblum is fine by me," he says in a far more offhand tone than he feels. "I'll go tell Shiro what's up." 

 

He jogs to — his — Shiro's room, where he listens for just a moment to hear if Shiro is still talking to Ilari. 

 

All is quiet, so he gently knocks on the door and calls out, "Shiro?"

 

The door slides open, Shiro standing just on the other side. 

 

"Hey, I was just coming to look for you," he says with a smile. 

 

Keith feels an absolutely overwhelming rush of fondness, excitement and a fair amount of fear as he looks in Shiro's gray eyes. 

 

"Hi, Takashi," Keith says. He knows he sounds mushy but he can't seem to stop it. "I wanted to tell you, Coran wants us to take a lion and go pick up some scaultrite lenses from the rebels on Orias."

 

Shiro reaches out and clasps Keith's shoulder. 

 

"Guess you're driving," he says brightly.

 

Keith is abruptly ashamed. Of course Shiro is concerned about not feeling a connection to the black lion anymore. And the last time he was truly in Black, he was shoved into the astral realm. 

 

“Will you be all right? We can take a shuttle instead if you want.”

 

Shiro’s face softens perceptibly. 

 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” he says, rubbing at the junction of Keith’s neck and shoulder gently. 

 

Keith feels the hairs on his arms rise in response to the massage-like sensation. He resists the urge to confess to Shiro right here in the doorway, knowing if the tables were turned, he would want the opportunity to have some time away from the castle for such an important decision. 

 

"Oh," Keith's face flames as a breathy noise escapes him. "Okay. I'll just get some things together for the trip, it should only be about half a day."

 

Shiro lets his fingers slip away, whisper-soft. 

 

"I'll pack, too." There's something in his voice, something Keith wants to explore. 

 

Soon.

 

First he's got to find some things. 

 

Keith sneaks into the galley kitchen, hoping he can do this without any nosy questions coming from the other paladins. As far as Keith knows, there is no actual lubricant for human sexual purposes on the Castleship, but he'd rather die a thousand times than ask any of his fellow paladins, the princess, or least of all, Coran. 

 

Keith has a suspicion there's oil in the kitchen that will serve well enough as lube, if such an occasion arises, and he plans to be prepared. He's not sure how to prepare for the possibility that Shiro doesn't want to be his ... mate, his ezkontide, whatever... so he'll just focus on preparing for more pleasant outcomes. 

 

Of course, Keith has no idea if there are condoms on the Castleship, either. He makes a mental note to bring lots of wet wipes and towels. 

 

He finds the oil and pours some into a smaller container that hopefully won't spill all over everything. He tucks the container away hastily, like he's committing a crime, and grabs some food and water packets for the trip and for plausible deniability. 

 

Keith wonders if he should shower and scrub off. On the other hand, he might be getting a little ahead of himself. Plus, he recalls with a flush, he and Shiro have enjoyed showers together a few times. Maybe if they can finagle an overnight stay, and his whole confessing his feelings thing goes well, he can work another pleasant shared bathing experience into the schedule. 

 

Keith actually has no idea what the accommodations on Orias might be like; it might be more comfortable to hurry home to the Castleship and sleep in their own bed. Really, as long as he's with Shiro, and Shiro hasn't told him he hates him and he never wants to talk to him again, it doesn't matter whether they're in a shack or the swanky tree hotel on Olkarion. 

 

He bites back a curse as he hears the doors to the mess hall slide open. He juggles the pouches of water and packages of protein bars into his arms, momentarily checking to make sure the bottle of oil is still hidden and not leaking from his utility belt, and hurries to leave the kitchen. 

 

"Oh, hey, Keith," Hunk calls cheerfully. "Getting some supplies for the trip?" 

 

"Yep!" Keith confirms hastily. "Just the usual, protein bars and water, that's all." 

 

"I might have some leftovers that'll keep for the trip, if you want me to pack some up for you," Hunk says kindly.

 

Keith grins at the gourmand. 

 

"That would actually be amazing, Hunk. You know I'd much rather eat anything you make than food goo and these bad boys." He jostles the packages in his clutches. 

 

Hunk looks touched. 

 

"Keith, it warms my heart to hear you enjoy my cooking, honestly. Let me see what I can rustle up before you guys head out." 

 

Keith jogs back to his room and chucks the supplies into a duffel bag with a few changes of clothes and the towels and wet wipes he'd thought about earlier. 

 

He looks around and tries to think of anything else he might need, aside from courage and a gift of expressing himself that he doesn't quite possess. He takes a deep breath or three in an approximation of the way Lance taught them and tries to calm himself. He might have been loopy from the anesthesia, but Keith believed Shiro when he said he loved him back. Hopefully, that means Shiro loves him in the same way Keith loves Shiro: unconditionally. 

 

Keith squares his shoulders. 

 

He’s about to find out. 

 

Once they’ve gotten all their supplies together and Coran has made contact with the rebels on Orias to confirm they're still welcome to pick up the scaultrite lenses, there's nothing left to do but climb into Black and make the journey. 

 

Keith is nearly ill with nervous anticipation, and he knows he must be acting strangely. He plans to time his confession to be about halfway through the trip to the planet, so there will be enough time to get over it and be good diplomats no matter what happens. Shiro's always been better than Keith at that part of the job, but Keith can compartmentalize with the best of them. At least, he thinks he can. That's always been a little bit harder to do when it comes to Shiro. 

 

Keith can tell Shiro is anxious, but about what specifically, he's not sure. With a thought, Keith connects to Black and asks the lion to open its mouth so they can bring in the supplies. He feels the otherworldly vibration of the lion responding in his mind — the Voltron lion version of a cheerful 'hello!' — before the whine of quintessence-fueled struts and rotors fills his senses. With grace belying its size, the lion's jaws yawn open and settle onto the floor without so much as a clang. Black seems to be sensing the humans' tension and responding by moving as delicately as it can. 

 

Keith appreciates the consideration. He knows Shiro must be dealing with a lot as he reacquaints himself with Black, walking around the cockpit. Keith stashes the last of their supplies, including packages of food wrapped with care by Hunk, and wishes there were some way to ask Black to make Shiro feel welcome again. 

 

 _I know he's not your pilot right now, but I wish you could have a connection with Shiro, too,_ Keith thinks wistfully.

 

There's no response from the lion. Keith knows the lion may not understand, or may have its own reasons for staying silent. 

 

He clears his throat. 

 

"Got everything?" 

 

Shiro nods, settling at Keith's right side as the pilot's seat adjusts to his frame. 

 

"I am ready to go," he confirms. "It'll be nice to get away from the Castleship for a day or two, spend some time planetside."

 

Keith quirks a smile at him. 

 

"I'm glad you're looking forward to it," he says earnestly. "You deserve a break." 

 

As they leave the hatch and set a course for Orias, Keith could swear he can smell Shiro, clean skin and soap and just a hint of sweat. He wonders if this is another Galra thing he should ask his mom about or if he's just going crazy. 

 

Despite Keith's nervousness, the first half of the trip passes quickly and uneventfully. They chat about what they hope to do when they get back to Earth and what kind of food they'd most want to randomly be available on Orias. Keith tells Shiro about his mom, who is supposed to meet up with them at the edge of their home galaxy. 

 

Shiro seems sincerely interested and excited to meet her, and Keith's heart does something strange in his chest. 

 

He grips the controls tightly and turns to Shiro, his organs trying to switch places within him. 

 

"Hey, um, Shiro?" Keith hates how shaky his voice sounds. 

 

Shiro gives him a steady smile that has Keith calming slightly. He puts his hand on Keith's shoulder, a comforting weight. 

 

"Go ahead," Shiro urges lowly.

 

"So," Keith's eyes flit to the controls. "Y'know, I said..." He bites his lip hard enough to hurt. "I said 'I love you?'"

 

Shiro nods, his face open but — to Keith — terrifyingly neutral. 

 

Keith gulps and tries to keep his eyes on Shiro anyway. His hands quiver on the sticks.

 

"I know, before, I said you're like my brother, but, it's more than that. You're everything to me."

 

Keith's eyes have darted around as he talked, his face flaming and his heart walloping around behind his rib cage, but he finally dares to look at Shiro again. Shiro's eyes have widened and Keith sees something like a sunrise in his expression. 

 

"I love you, Takashi." 

 

Keith, trembling, finds himself leaning into Shiro's touch. His hand finds the junction of Keith's neck and shoulder like it has so many times lately, but then Shiro leans in closer, closer, filling Keith's field of vision and he's kissing Keith, the chest plates of their armor clacking together as their lips touch tenderly. 

 

Shiro pulls back far enough to be able to look at Keith and he's grinning, cheeks flushing so pink his scar nearly disappears. His fingers tug on Keith's ponytail, loosening the strands until he can sink his fingers into the inky length. 

 

"Shiro?"

 

"I love you," Shiro breathes. "I don't know how long I've loved you, but I never thought you'd love me like — like this. I want it all. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to travel the universe with you, love you body and soul. Keith, I —" He laughs and pulls Keith into another kiss. 

 

Without warning, Black roars and leaps forward. Keith and Shiro both jump, but then Keith feels a rush of fierce, overwhelming joy coming from his connection with Black. Shiro gasps, his eyes alight. 

 

"You felt that?" 

 

Shiro nods, beaming. 

 

"I guess Black approves."

 

They make great time on the second half of their trip to Orias, with Black's enthusiasm spurring them along. 

 

Two rebels appear out of nowhere and welcome the pair cheerfully as soon as Black lands on a sturdy patch of land amid acres of uninhabitable-looking swamp, the two paladins collect their things and jump out, and Black disappears under Pidge's cloaking tech. 

 

The rebels, bipedal and roughly Galra-sized, wear masks covering their faces entirely, because the atmosphere, while excellent for plant life, is less forgiving for sentient beings. Luckily they've warned them ahead of time, so Keith and Shiro sealed their helmets before leaving Black. 

 

The rebels gesture for Keith and Shiro to follow them. Keith starts to get suspicious because it looks like they're trying to get them to wade into the swamp. One of the beings holds up a hand in a universal "hang on a second" motion and fiddles with a device. 

 

For once, it doesn't seem to be a trap. A boxy passage with a double doorway rises out of the murky waters, dripping with muck and weeds, and once the majority of the greenery has dripped off, the doors open to a well-lit passageway. The rebels enter and beckon Shiro and Keith inside. The doors whine closed, the airlock seals with a hiss and then the contraption descends below the waters again. After about 30 ticks of extremely awkward silence, the elevator clanks into place and the second set of doors opens to a cheery foyer. 

 

The diverse group of rebels populating the base seem to have congregated in the room, which is filled with cubbies where the rebels store their gear and bright, colorful tapestries draped along the walls to make up for the lack of windows. 

 

It's still a little claustrophobic, knowing they're underwater, but the cozy atmosphere does help. It's also quite warm inside the base, he notes. 

 

The two rebels who greeted them pop off their masks to reveal friendly yellow-orange faces with no external ear shapes, just tympanic membranes like Earth reptiles. They are a little scaly, but their blunt-nosed, wide-mouthed faces just seem cheerful. 

 

Keith unseals his own helmet and pulls it over his head. Shiro follows suit. 

 

"Welcome, Paladins," the shorter of the two rebels says in a sibilant voice. "We are flattered you have paid us a visit. I am L'eshi, and this is Rytak, and this is the Orias rebel base. We are 150 strong."

 

Keith exchanges a glance with Shiro. They hadn't actually decided who would take the lead in the conversation. 

 

Shiro nods in a 'go on' kind of gesture. 

 

"Thank you for your hospitality. We are recovering after the battle that killed Haggar and her druids, and it is a slow journey to our home planet. It is generous of you to share your supplies with us." 

 

L'eshi gestures to a sturdy-looking wooden box that comes to about Keith's thigh. 

 

"We are proud to be of assistance to Voltron and its Paladins. Here are the scaultrite lenses we promised to Sir Coran, you may examine them." 

 

Shiro pops open the lid and takes one out of the case, which is built to protect each lens during travel. Keith leans over to check it out and hums approvingly. They're in considerably good shape. 

 

They may not be able to use the teludav anytime soon, but Keith would much rather have extra scaultrite lenses than have to track down another weblum. 

 

"These are in excellent condition," Keith says. "Thank you again." 

 

Shiro slips the lens into the box and replaces the lid. 

 

"We would be honored if you would join us for a meal and a night of rest, if you have the time to do so," Rytak offers in a raspy, low voice.

 

They accept gladly and offer to share the food Hunk made if it is safe for their species to eat. Keith sends a message to the Castleship informing them they will catch up in the morning; Black is more than fast enough to make up the difference, especially with the good mood it had been in today. 

 

He finds the evening surprisingly fun and informal, with the rebel group making a tradition of eating together for its evening meal whenever possible. 

 

Keith is pleasantly surprised by the food, which is spicy but more than palatable. He stays away from the drinks, sipping on water in lieu of finding himself subjected to another nunvill-type atrocity. 

 

He can't keep his eyes off of Shiro. Whether he's chatting with rebels, making a face of surprise at how good the food is, or meeting Keith's eyes with a blush, Keith keeps finding him. He has to apologize and ask someone to repeat themselves more than once. 

 

He feels a thrill of anticipation. He hopes the rebels don't have dormitory-style sleeping arrangements, because he would really like to get Shiro alone. 

 

Keith finally gives up on being a good diplomat and quietly pulls L'eshi to ask about where he will be bunking down. 

 

"Oh, certainly, follow me," she says with a cheerful flick of her tongue. She leads him down a passageway illuminated with multicolored sconces that remind Keith of Christmas tree lights. 

 

She shows him to a small room mostly filled with a big, nest-like bed with an abundance of patchwork blankets and pillows. 

 

Keith bows slightly and thanks L'eshi for the help, then turns to set down his bag. She leaves, the door sliding closed behind her. Keith peels off his armor methodically, stripping down to the under suit. He sighs; it feels heavenly after a long day of travel and trying to be sociable. 

 

He wonders how long would be appropriate to wait before he sends Shiro a message on his communicator. Keith swallows. While his imagination is going wild, he forces himself to acknowledge that Shiro may not want to do anything but sleep, and Keith will accept whatever he wants to do. Keith may be filled with desire, but his blood runs cold at the thought of making Shiro do anything he doesn't want. He just wants to make Shiro feel good. 

 

After a shamefully short amount of time passes, he decides to track Shiro down. He thinks maybe he can stick his head back in the base's mess hall without being too obvious. He turns to leave, and when the door slides open, Shiro is framed in the doorway, looking picturesque with his helmet tucked under his arm. 

 

"Shiro," Keith breathes. "I was just going to look for you." 

 

Shiro steps into the room, a shy smile spreading across his face. 

 

"Hey, Keith." He sets his bag down next to Keith's along the wall. "Will you help me get out of this armor?" 

 

Keith's fingers only tremble a little when he steps closer to Shiro to start peeling the plates from Shiro's body, starting with the gauntlet on his left arm and working his way to the chest and back plates. 

 

He smiles up at Shiro, glad to be alone with the man again. 

 

"How are you feeling?" Keith murmurs, afraid speaking too loud will ruin the moment. 

 

His answering smile is brilliant and causes Keith's chest to fill with warmth. This man... Keith can't think of much he wouldn't do to see him smile like that. 

 

Shiro reaches up to brush some strands of hair out of Keith's eyes.

 

"I'm really, really good," he responds in a voice equally soft as Keith's. His hand lingers on Keith's face and suddenly Keith can't breathe. They've kissed before, of course, but this moment feels different somehow, more important. Now they've both acknowledged how they feel about each other, now anything physical that happens has the weight of their shared love behind it. 

 

The wait is delicious, but Keith can't resist any more. He leans in and tilts his head up, slow and careful as can be, and his lips find Shiro's like coming home. 

 

He raises his arms to wrap around Shiro, relishing in the solid weight of the man pressed against him. Shiro caresses the back of his neck, pulling him in ever tighter against him, and makes a little, happy sound that rumbles through his chest. 

 

A raspy laugh escapes Keith and he presses his face into Shiro's neck to breathe in the mouthwatering smell of him. 

 

"Shiro," he rumbled, lips nipping and pressing along the scars and tendons along the column of his neck. "What do you want?"

 

Shiro's hand tugs at his under suit, finding where it hooks together and gently pulling the pieces apart, exposing Keith's shoulders. 

 

"I want to see you," Shiro says, fingers smoothing over the skin of Keith's back and raising goosebumps along his spine. 

 

"You're lookin' at me," Keith jokes, slipping his arms out of his sleeves.

 

Shiro's fingers smooth over his shoulders, lingering on the scar from his Blade of Marmora trial, to his chest and down to his abs, ruffling the sparse hair along the way. His warm fingers feel maddeningly good over his stomach and he arches into the touch as they brush along the hair just below his belly button. 

 

When the stretchy material of the under suit is at his waist, he slides his hands up Shiro's chest leisurely, his slow, teasing movements belying his desires. He indulges shamelessly, squeezing Shiro's pecs on the way back up to his neck, where he tugs on the hooks and slips Shiro's under suit over his impossibly broad shoulders. He nimbly pulls it down over Shiro's stump, which is healing beautifully and nearly ready for his new prosthetic. He caresses the arm and lays a gentle kiss on Shiro's scarred shoulder before moving over to the other arm. 

 

He pulls the sleeve to Shiro's elbow, and Shiro tugs his arm out the rest of the way. Keith slides the smooth fabric down to Shiro's waist, thumbs rubbing at the sharp ridges of the muscles at his hips. Shiro seems to like that, hissing a breath and bucking into the touch. 

 

"Keith, baby," he breathes, turning Keith's insides molten. 

 

"I wanna see you, too, Takashi," Keith mumbles as he litters kisses across the scars on Shiro's ribs and stomach. 

 

Shiro unlatches his belt one-handed and catches it before it can fall, tossing it onto the bed. Keith does the same with his own belt, slightly more gently as he belatedly remembers the jar of oil in one pocket. His hands dart back to Shiro's hips, easing the suit over them and squeezing the unbelievable roundness of Shiro's ass in black briefs. Keith lets go, only to kneel at Shiro's feet and tenderly remove his boots, tossing them near their things against the wall, and slipping the suit and Shiro's socks down and off his feet. He looks up at Shiro's face, his eyes dark with want, hands sliding through the coarse hair of his well-muscled calves and thighs and back to the waistline of his briefs. 

 

Keith knows what he wants. He doesn't know if he's ever wanted anything more than he wants Shiro in his mouth right now. 

 

"Shiro, can I taste you?" he asks as his fingertips tease beneath the taut fabric. 

 

Shiro exhales shakily. 

 

"Yes, but please, don't do anything you don't want to do," he says in a rush. 

 

Keith pauses. 

 

"Oh, I want to," he asserts. "Do you want my mouth on you, Takashi?" 

 

"God, yes." 

 

Keith grins, relieved and horny, and tugs the offending garment down Shiro's thick thighs. Shiro's hard cock blushes red at the tip and Keith can't wait any longer. He wraps one hand around the sturdy length while his other hand rids Shiro of his briefs, tugging them down to his ankles. Shiro nearly stumbles stepping out of them, because Keith leans forward and kisses Shiro's dick right under the swollen glans, his open mouth rubbing at the sensitive skin. He licks, kittenish at first, then in longer strokes as Shiro responds, breathy moans leaving his lips as he grasps Keith's shoulder. There's something deliciously filthy about Shiro's hand landing there, even as Keith clumsily takes the whole head in his lips, tonguing at the slit and sliding his hand lightly over the shaft. 

 

Keith moans as he takes in more of Shiro's dick, the generous length gliding over his tongue. He stops before it gets to the back of his throat. He's never done this before, and he has no idea if he can count deep throating among his abilities. 

 

"Keith, that feels so good, you're so good for me," Shiro groans out above him. "I'm not gonna last, you feel too perfect." 

 

Keith closes his eyes, the praise surging straight to his dick, and isn't that something to examine further someday. 

 

He palms at his own cock, trapped under layers of stretchy fabric, and pulls off of Shiro with a filthy sound, a string of spit connecting his reddened lips to Shiro's dick. 

 

"I wanna make you feel good," he rasps. "Do you want to come now? We've got all night." 

 

Shiro stares at him, a low moan escaping his lips. He tugs on Keith's arm lightly until Keith gets the point and clambers to his feet, yanking the under suit off and tossing it into the corner. 

 

"Keith, would you — I think I want you to," he takes a shaky breath. "I want you to fuck me." 

 

Keith surges to kiss him, licking at his lips and into his mouth with abandon. He wraps his arms around Shiro, pressing them together, hissing at the sensation of Shiro's bare body sliding against his own. Shiro's big hand slides into the back of his briefs, squeezing his ass and tugging his hips tight to his. Keith wonders if he is going to last, the urge to rut against him warring with his knowledge of what is to come. 

 

He nudges Shiro over to the roundish bed, easing him down amid the blankets and pillows littering the surface. Keith wonders who has provided the cozy items for the members of the rebel base but loses track of the thought almost immediately as Shiro lays back, his belly shuddering with his breath. 

 

"I brought some stuff," Keith murmurs a little guiltily. He finds his utility belt and gets the bottle of oil. He crawls up toward Shiro, setting the container down and smoothing his hand from Shiro's neck to his waist. 

 

"Shiro, I love you," he blurts. His face flushes in embarrassment. Was that weird? He buries his face in Shiro's neck. 

 

Shiro huffs a laugh and rolls until Keith will look at him eye-to-eye. 

 

"I love you, too, Keith." His fingers trail down Keith's chest and belly until he grips Keith's cock loosely, tugging experimentally with the foreskin. Keith gasps at the sensation, his breath mingling with Shiro's, and surges forward to lick into Shiro's mouth. 

 

He returns the favor, stroking Shiro with something akin to reverence. After a few moments, he slips his hand lower, acquainting himself with Shiro's balls, and lower yet. His fingers find Shiro's entrance and rub gently, not pushing, just teasing. 

 

"Oh, fuck," Shiro gasps, spreading his thighs. 

 

"This okay?" Keith asks, petting his side with his other hand. 

 

"Yes, more than okay, Keith, yes," he chants. "I wanna feel you inside me, please." 

 

Keith figures that's the hottest fucking thing he's ever heard and lets Shiro know this as he pops open the bottle of oil and pours the slick substance over his fingers. It's a little cold and he rubs his fingers and thumb together to warm it up. 

 

"We can stop any time you want, Shiro, just say the word," he promises. He slips his fingers back to rub at Shiro's hole. 

 

"I will," Shiro vows. "Just, please, keep touching me, like that, yes!"

 

Keith swallows loudly as he tentatively presses his forefinger forward, the fingertip slipping just inside the tight ring of Shiro's entrance. He backs off almost immediately, but when Shiro keens and bucks up into his hand, he tries again, his finger spreading the oil and sinking into Shiro's heat. It's unbelievable. Draped alongside Shiro, Keith nibbles at his collarbone as Shiro tosses his head back, soft noises of pleasure leaving his lips. 

 

After a while of just one finger, Keith tries to add his middle finger to the mix. Shiro is tight, but he's slowly opening up for Keith, hot and filthy and beautiful. Keith gets both fingers inside to the first knuckle and tries to widen them; it's a challenge. Instead, he focuses on spreading the oil around and working the fingers deeper inside. He feels something with his fingertips and realizes it might be Shiro's prostate. He rubs at the rounded, smooth shape, and Shiro keens, bucking. 

 

"Fuck, oh my god, Keith, that's so good," Shiro babbles. Keith is at once a little smug that he can make Shiro come apart like this, but also unbelievably turned on. 

 

"Mmmm, you sound amazing, Takashi," he confesses. "You feel good around my fingers, too." 

 

He tries to spread his fingers again and makes some leeway, Shiro bearing down and moaning out curses and endearments in equal measure. 

 

He avoids rubbing Shiro's prostate overmuch, but works his way up to three of his slender fingers inside his entrance. He feels taut with want, but doesn't want to rush Shiro. 

 

"Keith, please," Shiro moans at him after a few minutes of this. "I wanna feel you." 

 

"If you're ready," Keith says. 

 

"Keith," he says in a commanding tone. "Fuck me." 

 

"Yes, sir," Keith says irreverently. He grabs the oil and pours a generous amount over his cock, hissing as the cool liquid slides over him. He spreads it with his hand and clambers over Shiro's leg to rub the excess oil onto his entrance. He takes himself in hand and lines up, his reddened head pushing out of the foreskin. He rubs the sensitive head against Shiro's entrance, causing the man to curse and beg. 

 

He slides in at a glacial pace, watching Shiro's expression the whole time. Shiro's hand clutches at his back, short gasps leaving his swollen lips. Keith's hands grip Shiro's thighs tightly, holding his legs wide. 

 

"Ohhh my god," Keith moans as he sinks home. "You're so tight." 

 

Shiro's hand slips down to his ass, pulling him in as far as he can. 

 

"Move, Keith," he pleads. 

 

Keith rocks his hips experimentally, the pleasure spiraling through him as he's surrounded by Shiro. Shiro makes approving noises as Keith starts to work in and out in longer thrusts. 

 

The slick slide of his cock against Shiro's walls is unbelievable. The way he responds. The heat, the tight clutch of Shiro all around him; he digs his fingertips into Shiro's thighs as he ruts deeper still. It’s better than Keith had ever imagined. 

 

Their panting breaths mingle in the space between them. Keith struggles to keep his eyes open as the sensation overtakes his senses. He wants to keep watching Shiro, to make sure he is enjoying this as much as Keith is. 

 

"Fuck, fuck, yes," Shiro pants. "Ah, ah, yes, it's so good, baby." 

 

Keith moans, the sound of the endearment nearly undoing him. 

 

"Shiro, you feel so good," he rumbles. "I'm — ah — I'm not gonna last much longer, it's too —" 

 

Shiro wraps his legs around Keith's waist and rocks against him. 

 

"Do it, come for me," he urges. Keith sneaks a hand between them to tug at Shiro's straining, leaking cock and thrusts wildly, losing his sense of rhythm as he finds his release. His balls tighten and pleasure erupts throughout his body as he empties himself inside Shiro, who shouts and follows him over the edge moments later, spilling over Keith's knuckles.

 

Keith goes boneless and falls atop Shiro, who uses his legs and arm to move Keith to lie on Shiro’s right side. Keith, still inside him, gasps as his pulsing causes Shiro to throb around him, an endless feedback loop of pleasure. Using Shiro’s right shoulder like a pillow, Keith clutches to him tightly, burying his face in Shiro’s chest with something like a sob.

 

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs. “You good?”

 

Keith shudders, clinging, littering kisses over Shiro’s chest and neck. 

 

“Never been better,” he admits. “You?”

 

He leans up and back, craning his neck to look in Shiro’s eyes. 

 

Shiro smiles at him, somehow both soft and smug. 

 

“I love you, and I feel amazing.” 

 

Keith can’t help but kiss him again. 

.

 

The trip back passes uneventfully, Keith relishing the moments of quiet intimacy between him and Shiro. 

 

When they’re about an hour or two away from the Castleship, he’s hit with the realization that they’re going to have to tell the other paladins about themselves. He groans quietly to himself. Pidge is going to be insufferable. 

 

“What?” Shiro asks with a smile and a quirked eyebrow. 

 

“When do you want to tell everyone?” 

 

“Oh,” Shiro looks troubled. “We don’t have to do that right away, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

 

Keith makes a noise in the back of his throat. Of course Shiro would take that the wrong way. Keith thinks about how to phrase himself so he can’t be misunderstood. 

 

“I’m not uncomfortable telling anyone we’re together,” he explains in an even tone. “I just know they’re going to make a big deal out of it and I don’t know if there’s any possible way to get them to be cool about it.” 

 

Shiro hums, considering. His hand rests on Keith’s neck comfortingly. 

 

“We’ll need a diversion,” he says with a mischievous grin. 

 

It turns out, they don’t need the prank they planned: Keith’s mom arrives at roughly the same time as they do at the Castleship. 

 

Though Pidge is wiggling her eyebrows at him suggestively, Keith ignores her in favor of introducing his mother politely to Pidge, Hunk, Lance, Lotor, Allura and Coran. 

 

“Everyone, this is Krolia, my mom,” he says with all the decorum he can muster. 

 

Shiro follows suit, though Keith thinks his enthusiasm is sincere. He says he’s delighted to meet her, and Krolia thanks him for helping Keith to be the man he is today. 

 

Keith is blushing as the rest of the ship’s current inhabitants introduce each other. Coran is effusive while Lotor is reserved; Krolia can’t seem to help but stare at the prince, after who knows how many years of fighting everything he stood for. 

 

Regardless, she remains polite, if baldly honest. 

 

“Well, it’s certainly interesting to meet you,” she says. 

 

The evening passes slowly, with everyone helping to unload the scaultrite lenses carefully and finding a bunk for Krolia.

 

Going back to Shiro’s room at the end of the night feels like coming home. Keith has Shiro safe, alive, to himself: he can embrace him, kiss him nearly any time he likes, and confessing his feelings didn’t make the universe fall apart. 

 

Keith wakes up in Shiro’s embrace and lets himself do what he’s wanted to do ever since Shiro awoke after they removed him from the cryopod: He kisses Shiro soundly, ignoring their combined morning breath. 

 

Shiro stirs underneath his lips. 

 

“Good morning,” Shiro rumbles with a slow, gorgeous smile. 

 

Keith moves to nibble on Shiro’s ear, placing kisses along his jawline and the cords of his neck. 

 

“Hi,” Keith says between kisses. 

 

They kiss and snuggle until Shiro’s growling stomach interrupts. Shiro wants to keep going, but Keith pokes him, tickling, until he gives in and gets dressed. 

 

They stumble down to the mess hall to grab a bowl of food goo; they’d brought some of the spicy food back from Orias for Hunk, but it didn’t strike either of them as particularly appetizing breakfast fare. 

 

Pidge is the first to stumble in after them, to Keith’s surprise. 

 

“Did you guys finally bang?” Her voice is raspy with sleep but her eyes are bright.

 

“Yes, now get your gloating out of your system, please,” Keith says impatiently. 

 

She grins. 

 

“No gloating, just happy you finally came clean to each other,” she says, giving them both high fives. 

 

Keith closes his mouth and turns to stare at Shiro, who shrugs with a bashful smile on his face. 

 

“What are you doing up so early?” Shiro asks the question on Keith’s mind.

 

“We’re nearly in transmission range of Earth,” she explains excitedly. “I’m going to try to contact the Garrison today.”

 

“Oh, already?” Keith takes a bite of his goo. 

 

Pidge levels a glare at him. 

 

“We’ve been in this tin can for months, what do you mean, already?”

 

Keith shrugs. 

 

“Wasn’t that bad.” He nudges Shiro with his thigh. 

 

Shiro rolls his neck, leaning over to give a smacking kiss half on Keith’s ear, half on his cheek. 

 

Keith squawks, blushing. 

 

“Oh, you guys are adorable,” Pidge deadpans. “Please continue with the public displays of affection.” 

 

A small smile twitches on her lips. 

 

After breakfast, Allura has everyone come to the bridge to stand by while Pidge and Hunk try to contact the Garrison. 

 

“This is Katie Holt, paladin of Voltron, trying to contact the Galaxy Garrison, Arizona, Earth. Do you copy?”

 

There’s nothing but fuzz. 

 

Pidge keeps her shoulders squared and tries again, then a third time. 

 

On her third try, the static seems to take a different shape, and Hunk does something to the Castleship’s reception. 

 

A fuzzy picture starts to take shape on the Castleship’s screens. 

 

It’s a man and a woman in the Galaxy Garrison’s officer uniforms. The picture is still too fuzzy to make out their faces. 

 

“Hello, this is Katie Holt, Paladin of Voltron,” Pidge repeats. “I am trying to contact the Galaxy Garrison. Do you copy?”

 

“We copy, Katie Holt,” a man’s voice says fondly. The blurred and staticky video feed refines itself to reveal Sam and Colleen Holt. 

 

Pidge’s jaw drops open. 

 

“Dad? _Mom_?!”


End file.
